


No Escape From Destiny

by LadyGlinda



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Mycroft Holmes, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bonding, Fluff and Smut, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, No Eurus Holmes, No mpreg, Omega Sherlock Holmes, Post-Season/Series 01, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Sherlock is a Brat, Sibling Incest, Smallwood Is A Bitch, Topping from the Bottom, holmescest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-02-18 21:20:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 29,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22333357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGlinda/pseuds/LadyGlinda
Summary: When John Watson turns up on his doorstep with a suffering Sherlock, Mycroft agrees to take care of baby brother, who is in heat.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Sherlock Holmes
Comments: 146
Kudos: 253





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SlytherinsDragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlytherinsDragon/gifts), [Elsa9](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elsa9/gifts).
  * Inspired by [An Arrangement of Convenience](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18632719) by [SlytherinsDragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlytherinsDragon/pseuds/SlytherinsDragon). 



> I didn't actually want to write more for this ABO trope, but a comment from Elsa9 reminded me of an idea I had noted down a few months ago so I thought I should give it a go. I surprisingly enjoy writing this fic. Thanks a lot to SlytherinsDragon for providing beta help (every remaining mistake is my own) and for inspiring this fic by her masterpiece :)  
> 

“What… What is going on here?”

“Well, Sherlock will stay with you for a week or for however long this is going to last.” Resolutely, John Watson pushed Sherlock over the threshold. He had already dropped a large travelling bag.

Mycroft stared at his pale, shivering brother with red-rimmed eyes. “What is wrong with him?” A previous moment ago, he had been enjoying his Saturday evening with a good book and an even better glass of whiskey; the next, he was dealing with whatever catastrophe had happened to baby brother again.

“Wrong? He’s in heat, you genius. Don’t you smell it?”

Yes. Now that John was mentioning it… But it couldn’t be! “How can he be in heat! I’ve organised suppressants for him.” Mycroft loosely put his arm around Sherlock's shoulder as he looked as if he was close to passing out. And he had not said a single word since they had appeared on his doorstep.

“Well, they do not work anymore. If you ask me, it’s because of the masses of drugs he took in his youth.”

That didn’t sound like a very scientific explanation. They hardly were in Sherlock's system anymore. But that didn’t matter right now, did it? “Why are you bringing him to me?” To his Alpha big brother…

“Because he whines all day and night for an Alpha.”

“Pardon?!”

“Well, I told him to find one. I mean they are enough of them running around, and some of them are even attractive,” snarled straight Beta John, making Mycroft cringe at the thought of his special little brother throwing himself at some random man to have sex with him. “But of course they are not smart enough for him. He can’t stand people, he’s telling me. And still he keeps on whining for a knot. Damn, he even grabbed for _my_ crotch! Talk some sense into him is all I ask for.”

“This is impossible. I can’t be near him.” Mycroft blushed and his eyes darted to Sherlock, but his brother didn’t seem to have heard him at all. He seemed to be in a nasty world of his own, a world of desperate desires and bodily needs that had to be so foreign to him. Mycroft felt deeply sorry for him.

“What – afraid you could be tempted by him?” John stared at him wide-eyed before he burst out into laughter, as if this was the funniest joke he’d ever heard.

Mycroft didn’t find it funny at all. Sexual relationships between siblings were not very common but far from being an exception. They were not illegal, either, even though of course society didn’t exactly appreciate them – despite the fact that siblings could not even impregnate each other. And Sherlock was a very beautiful Omega. Did John really believe being Sherlock's brother made him immune against the temptation of a male Omega in heat? But he obviously did, perhaps because the brothers were not exactly close…

Sherlock had become aware that he was an Omega only a couple of months ago, a few days after his thirtieth birthday, which was remarkably late. He had cursed it and fought it – he had already been pissed off at the prospect of being a Beta, not an Alpha – but there was not much to be done about it. He was seriously ashamed of his secondary gender, Mycroft supposed. Didn’t exactly match his dominant personality, the _criminal-chasing/no-fears_ -personality. And his contempt for the potential needs of his ‘transport’.

But be that as it may; he had to accept his fate. Only that he was now definitely suffering from it. And Mycroft could hardly send him away. And it was no big deal, really. He was a man full of self-control. They called him the Iceman for a reason. He could deal with an Omega in his house without being all over him. It was his little brother after all. And he had always been there for him. He would be there for him now. As a brother. Just a tiny voice in his head was irking him by asking if he wasn’t trying to convince himself a bit too hard...

He shook it off. “It’s okay, John. Leave him with me.” It was the weekend. He would take some days off next week if necessary, doing his usual reporting work from home. Conference calls were always an option, too. He didn’t want to think about all the other heats Sherlock would have to go through in his life though, every few months...

“Great. I couldn’t sleep anymore with all the sobbing and craving. Went on for three days. And my dates were pissed off, too.”

Mycroft didn’t like the doctor. Never had. And right now, he liked him less than ever… Why had he not informed Mycroft before? “Come, little brother,” he said soothingly, turning his back to the annoying little man after picking up the bag. “Let’s get you comfortable, hm?”

Sherlock looked up to him with desperate eyes. “Yes,” he sniffled. “Thank you.”

Mycroft was touched. He had said ‘ thank you’. He had not even known his brother was aware these words existed. Perhaps this experience would even bring them closer together.

He should remember this thought not much later…

*****

He had seen it coming, hadn’t he? The blanket up to his chin, he had been waiting. Dozing off a bit from time to time, yes, but not falling asleep.

He had guided Sherlock into the living room and made him a cup of steaming hot chocolate and put a blanket around his shoulders. It warmed him, and it covered his neck scent gland…

Because Mycroft had smelled him very clearly. A smell of musk and need and peaches. An earthy, rich smell with a slight note of vanilla. Irresistible. Of course it couldn’t be. He could never be Sherlock's Alpha, legal or not. It would destroy the last bit of their brotherly bond. The years of being separated due to Mycroft being so much older and having to go to school and uni and then to London to start his career in the government, the drugs and the appearance of John Watson had already done enough damage to it. Sherlock, the sunny little boy, had developed into a moody teenager and then a frankly hostile adult.

Actually Mycroft had wondered if he had lost his mind even considering that Sherlock wanted him as an Alpha… Sherlock couldn’t stand him, even if he was a bit less impolite than usual. He was simply disturbed and suffering, which had made him uncharacteristically meek. His knot had to be the last one Sherlock was craving for.

Well, he had been wrong…

“Don’t. Go back to bed, Sherlock.” He had given him one of the guest rooms. A comfortable room with a lot of space for the clothes and books which had been stored in the bag. Whatever he needed would be either fetched from Baker Street or bought for him.

“No,” Sherlock said, shaking his head. He was on all fours. On Mycroft's bed. Naked. “Need you.” He didn’t sound troubled anymore. He sounded predatory.

And this smell, God, this smell… “Not like this. Please.” His heart was racing. Sweat had broken out on his forehead. He wanted to bury his face in Sherlock's scent gland. He wanted to run away.

Sherlock smiled and it was a cruel, knowing smile. “You want me. I can see it. Your pupils are huge.”

“It’s dark. You can’t see my eyes,” Mycroft stupidly protested. He could feel his large Alpha cock throbbing, only held in place by his thin pyjama trousers and the rather heavy blanket.

“I can see well in the dark. It’s the heat. Heightens my senses. Better than any drug. But I need a knot. Your knot.” Sherlock licked his lips. “I can see that, too. Huge. Thick. Can’t wait to have it in my arse.”

“I won’t do that. Mummy would...”

“Fuck _Mummy_. No, fuck _me_.” Sherlock chuckled and the sound sent shivers down Mycroft's spine. “It’s perfect. You can’t even knock me up so no need for taking anything.”

Sherlock was not himself. Well, actually he was. He had always been reckless, not caring for the consequences of his actions. The heat, the strong Omega hormones had only increased this side of him. He was dangerous like this. He was shockingly attractive like this…

“You planned this,” he suddenly realised.

Sherlock gave him a feral grin. “Course I did. As if I cared for any stupid goldfish Alpha. Let alone John’s tiny Beta cock.”

“You stopped taking the suppressants.” He should have figured this out at once. Sherlock had obviously stopped struggling with being an Omega eventually and obviously he was rather embracing it now even though Mycroft could have sworn he was still being troubled by his state. Well, nobody deceived like a Holmes… Why had he manipulated John into bringing him here instead of just asking Mycroft if he could come? Well, because he could. Nobody manipulated like a Holmes...

“Good. I already thought you were slipping.”

Sherlock’s voice was heavy with arousal now. Mycroft could see his cock, hard and heavy, and larger than it was to be expected from an Omega. Well, his brother was an exception in almost every way...

He made a last attempt at avoiding this _[inevitable]_ impossible development. “Go away, Sherlock. I can’t give you what...” And then he was shut up with a kiss, and his bloody treacherous hands flew to his brother’s slim waist and his arse, his ambrosial, delicious arse, and he felt the rich, sticky wetness that was dripping out of it at his fingertips and he knew he was lost. His balls were achingly full and his cock was hot and heavy, throbbing with the need to slip into his brother. His brain had stopped functioning rationally. Gone was the cool politician – his Alpha hormones had taken over, stomping his last bit of resistance to pieces.

With a groan he plundered Sherlock's mouth, and he gasped in pleasure when Sherlock clung to him, his nails digging into the flesh of his back. He grabbed him tight around the waist and rolled him onto his back to have his way with him, and the beautiful Omega that was his menace of a little brother pulled him closer greedily.

*****

He was lapping at every piece of skin he could reach, high on pheromones. Sherlock's skin was smooth and sweet, his nipples hard little peaks under his busy fingers. But his brother was wiggling under him fiercely.

“Forget the foreplay, brother,” he panted. “We can do that later.”

This was so typically Sherlock, the impatient detective, that Mycroft had to grin. Sherlock saw it and chuckled, looking like he had done as a little boy with his sparkling eyes.

Mycroft felt a pang of guilt, finding its way through the hormone cocktail that had made him attack his brother like this. His brother. His complicated, self-destructive baby brother – of whom he was about to take advantage in the most horrific way. He pulled back, forcing his rational self to take control again. “I can’t do this. You’re going to hate me when it’s over.” And he was going to hate himself.

A second later he found himself on his back, Sherlock straddling him with eyes full of anger – and desire. “No way, brother. I didn’t go through all this shit to deal with your stupid conscience now. I want it and your bloody fat cock says you want it too. Get used to it.” And with this he rudely impaled himself on Mycroft's cock, making them both scream with arousal – and in his case certainly also with pain, but that didn't keep him from taking him even deeper.

Mycroft cursed himself for his pointless attempt at rejecting what he very well knew was what Sherlock craved for. He should have prepared him properly instead, knowing there was no way out of it anyway. He grabbed Sherlock's slim hips, trying to stop him, but Sherlock batted his hands away impatiently and proceeded to ride him, without mercy or any regard for his own wellbeing.

“Stay still, Mycroft,” he hissed. “We both know you hate legwork. And I don’t want your prissy preparations.”

This was so Sherlock that it was almost a parody. Mycroft couldn’t help it – despite his shock and feeling of guilt for doing with his brother what he had never been supposed to do he laughed, and the laughter was almost instantly replaced by a groan when his knot started to inflate.

“Oh yes,” Sherlock moaned. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

Yes. They were. But where? Hell? Heaven? Did it even matter? It was what is was. An Alpha brother and an Omega brother, connected in sexual pleasures and mutual desire. _To hell with tomorrow_ was what Sherlock had to think, if he bothered with thinking about the consequences of this encounter at all.

Mycroft saw flashes of everything that could happen if Sherlock regretted this afterwards, if he felt abused by the older brother who had always tried to protect him, often enough against his will. But buried deep in Sherlock's hot, tight, dripping _cloaca,_ high on sexual hormones and more or less helpless under his relentlessly moving brother let him completely give in to the most exciting sex he had ever had.


	2. Chapter 2

“Stop fidgeting, Sherlock. I know it’s not exactly comfortable but...”

“No, it really isn’t,” Sherlock interrupted him. “I’m sticky all over. I’m basically glued to you. And I fucking want to smoke!”

He was not sitting on Mycroft anymore. In fact he was lying on him where he had collapsed after coming all over Mycroft's stomach and chest. And Mycroft's knot was still tying them together. It had deflated a bit but not enough to disentangle. And very unsurprisingly, Sherlock had no patience for staying in this position any longer.

At least Mycroft could help in one way. He gestured at the bed stand. “I’m sure you can reach the top drawer. You’ll find a pack, a lighter and an ashtray.”

Sherlock retreated enough to look at him. “Smoking in bed? You?”

Mycroft shrugged. “Very rarely.” But sometimes, when he couldn’t sleep… “I’d appreciate if you didn’t set fire to the bed. Or me.”

Sherlock chuckled. “I’ll do my best.” Only second later he was pulling at the cigarette, sitting on Mycroft again. “Ah. Want one?”

“Give me yours for a sec.”

“Sharing a cigarette. How romantic.”

There was no contempt in his voice, Mycroft noticed while his lips closed around the cigarette. Just tease.

His heart rate was only slowly returning to normal. A part of him was still buried in his brother. He had no idea how he was feeling. Let alone how _Sherlock_ was feeling.

“Don't waste our time with needless regrets,” Sherlock said after taking the cigarette back from his hand. “We're going to do it again very soon.”

An Omega's heat could last from three to seven days, sometimes longer. And during this period, he craved a knot up to ten times a day. Would he even survive this? But hopefully Sherlock would be satisfied with two times a day. He thought he could manage this.

“Don't worry, brother,” Sherlock said, raising his eyebrows. “I won't demand the last piece of strength from you.”

“How reassuring. What would you have done if John had organised another Alpha for you?”

Sherlock snorted. “Please. Would have told him I'm not fucking with morons.”

“Usually Omegas are not that… picky.”

“Do you think I'm your everyday Omega?” Sherlock took another pull from the cigarette before he stubbed it out.

“No, God forbid. And you were sure that John wouldn’t indulge you himself?”

“Don't tell me you're jealous of him. He would rather cut off his cock than fuck a man. He is almost paranoid about being straight. Well, forget the ‘almost’.”

“I think he protests too much…” He had always been suspicious about the doctor. He had kidnapped him on his first day with Sherlock for a reason… For which reason he did not want to think through now…

Sherlock shrugged. “I don’t care. Don’t want him. Ha!”

Yes, Mycroft was finally slipping out of him. It felt like a loss… A messy loss...

Sherlock gave him a knowing grin while getting up from the bed. “You can put it back in shortly. But now I have to pee and I never needed a shower more. Care to share it with me?”

Mycroft blushed a bit. “I’ll use the other bathroom.” He knew he was being silly. He had just fucked and knotted his brother but a shared shower was too intimate?

Sherlock wasn't offended. “You’ll get used to it, brother,” he promised before disappearing from the room.

Yes. That was probably true, as shocking as it may be. They had done this, they’d had sex, and the world was still the same – more or less. Sherlock didn’t hate him. If Mycroft had been a huge optimist, he would have even said he seemed to like him better. How could he be so calm about all this? But was he really? Sherlock had always been a mystery to him. But if he was honest, this was only making this whole experience more exciting… _Exciting…_ How could he really think this was...

When Sherlock shouted from outside the room, “Don’t dawdle, brother!” he hurried to go refresh himself. For the next round. His knees got weak at the prospect.

*****

“How did you do this so fast?” Sherlock stared at the plate full of sandwiches Mycroft had put onto the bed stand.

“You know me. Food is my biggest weakness.” He had showered very quickly and disappeared into the kitchen. Sherlock needed something to eat. He needed it, too. They needed all the strength they could get, he supposed.

Sherlock sighed. “Is this the moment in which I apologise for teasing you with your weight?”

Mycroft waved this away. It had irked him but at the moment these old resentments seemed so unimportant. “Forget it. Isn’t it a typical Alpha thing to do? Feed the Omega?”

“Perhaps. Never cared about ‘typical’.”

“I figure. Take one. Humour me.”

Sherlock gave him a good-natured eye-roll and grabbed a sandwich with French cheese and pepper. “Good,” he mumbled with his mouth full, and Mycroft smiled. “Did that before?” Sherlock asked him when he had swallowed.

“What? Prepared sandwiches?”

Sherlock sighed. “You know what I mean. Fed an Omega.”

“Not really, no.” Mycroft had not exactly had many of them. He was way too busy to waste his time with, well, sex. The Omegas in Whitehall usually used a spray to cover their scent. And they were frankly horribly unattractive. Mycroft was not the man who was all over every Omega. In fact, he could count them on the fingers of one hand. At least in the last ten years. At uni, there had been a few more. At this young age, he had been less in control of his desires. Less able to push them away. He had knotted quite a few men in his time. But he had never felt the urge to pamper them. Let alone bond with any of them. The thought made him feel uncomfortable. They would not do that. Of course not. Sherlock needed him to get through this heat. And perhaps every other heat that would follow, if he chose to still not use the suppressants. Mycroft could hardly force him to do it. _As if you wanted it_ , said the nasty inner voice. Mycroft shooed the thought away at once. It was very well possible that one heat was enough for his brother. How interesting could it be for Mr _I-Get-Bored-Quicker-Than-Anyone-Else_ to fuck with his dull big brother, earning a sore arse and being a slave to his hormones? Even though he had never met an Omega more in control of himself even through the phase of acute heat… But this was _Sherlock_...

Sherlock was watching him with a smirk while finishing his sandwich. Mycroft avoided his look and took one himself.

This situation was rather… awkward. Both of them were wearing bathrobes. Waiting for the next round of sex. It had all happened so fast and unexpectedly that Mycroft had hardly kept up. There was a lot they should talk about, starting with him asking Sherlock why he had done this. Why had he deliberately gone into heat, just to be brought here by his so-called best friend? How was he feeling about it now? And how did he want this to continue?

But facing Sherlock, who was, to his delight, nibbling at his second sandwich right now, he felt unable to even try to discuss these matters. This was not a situation that life had prepared him for. He could talk to kings and lords and tycoons of all sorts, but in the face of his ever-challenging baby brother, the words kept stuck in his throat. They had never talked about something as scary as feelings. Let alone sex. They had never been close, ever since Mycroft had grown up. And the fact that they had come physically closer than ever now and were about to do it again didn't make it any easier.

He smelled it before Sherlock said anything. He swallowed when he saw Sherlock's eyes changing their colour. The hunger they expressed could not be assuaged by another sandwich.

“Round two,” Sherlock said laconically. “Ready?”

He had not even been ready for round one… But he nodded. His cock was filling out rapidly. His ability to think rationally was decreasing in the same measures. Rut – the menace of the Alphas – was about to take over. And his shields, which had been in place for so long, seemed to have more or less vanished at dealing with this particular Omega.

Two robes fell onto the floor. And a moment later they clashed in a needy, greedy kiss and Mycroft couldn’t have said why he had so quickly given up any opposition. Well, perhaps because it felt so scandalously good to be all over his baby brother.

*****

It was different this time. For several minutes, Sherlock let Mycroft dictate the (rather slow) pace. He sniffed and nibbled at his brother’s face and neck, pulling at one delicate earlobe with his lips, licking around and inside the finely chiselled ear, his hands holding Sherlock's in place. He was high on his brother’s smell and smoothness and uncharacteristic compliance.

It couldn’t last very long, and it didn’t.

“Mm, tender big Alpha brother,” Sherlock teased him when he had found his left nipple and was letting the hard little nub twirl around his tongue.

“Shut up, Omega,” Mycroft heard himself saying and blushed at once, and Sherlock gasped before starting to chuckle.

“Oh, that’s the game you want to play?” Sherlock’s eyes were sparkling, and Mycroft felt something like a lump in his throat.

Suddenly Mycroft felt completely sober again, despite being in the state of rut. Which kind of game did _Sherlock_ play? With him? Why was he giving himself to him? Why not take the damn suppressants for the next thirty years and forget about his secondary gender with its inconvenient needs? Was it an experiment? It was the most likely explanation. But if it was, why had Sherlock chosen him to do it with of all people? Because he was the safe option; that’s why. Sherlock knew Mycroft would never hurt him. Or drop him. Or force himself on him, no matter how strong his Alpha instincts might become when confronted with an Omega in heat. This was going to be over when Sherlock had got all he had been looking for out of this experience – and experiment.

He couldn’t help but feel used and sad, as stupid as it was – as if feeling guilty for letting it happen wasn’t bad enough. He shall never forget he was dealing with _Sherlock_. Not only was this, in a very unusual way, still very typical for the inquisitive detective, they were also not meant to be together in some committed relationship. Sherlock was still his little brother. And of course Mycroft wouldn’t want this anyway. He was the Iceman. He didn’t do sentiment. He had always been alone. Alone was what…

“Damn, brother,” Sherlock drawled, his now free hands digging into Mycroft's shoulder painfully. “I know you love thinking more than anything but is this really the time? I would admire your self-control if it wasn’t so annoying.” He pushed his hard cock against Mycroft's thigh to make a point.

Mycroft pressed his lips together before he retorted, “And I thought I loved _eating_ more than anything...”

Sherlock sighed and a moment later Mycroft found himself in the same position as the first time – right under and in his lean but surprisingly strong brother, who immediately started to ride him into the mattress again.

“Didn’t think I had to do all the work again,” he said, his mercurial eyes boring into Mycroft's, and Mycroft, all blood having rushed to his groin and his growing knot, wondered how this had become his life so quickly.

And then Sherlock bent down to kiss him, wildly and roughly and impatiently, and his hands slid over his little brother’s smooth sides and back, his cock pushing into the wet tightness of the Omega’s canal, matching Sherlock's movements, and he stopped thinking and feeling stupidly offended altogether when the Iceman he knew he wasn’t when it came to his brother melted under the attack of these invincible sexual hormones, the dripping heat he was buried in, and Sherlock’s incredible lips.


	3. Chapter 3

Mycroft wasn’t sure if he was waking up from the annoying beeping of Sherlock's phone or from Sherlock cursing about it. Still half asleep, he cradled his arm around Sherlock's waist when his brother had come back to bed after fishing the phone out of his jacket pocket. It was a miracle it had not happened before, Mycroft figured. He guessed it was John who was checking on his flatmate and friend. It wasn’t.

“Lestrade. What do you want in the middle of the night?”

Mycroft pulled Sherlock closer, burying his face in his neck. His tongue darted out to lap at his scent gland. The Omega didn’t seem to mind, holding still while talking into the phone.

“Oh. Okay. Still early.”

Mycroft, realising rather late how bright the room was, looked at the old-fashioned clock on the wall – and winced. Half past nine! When had he last slept in like this? Well, when had he last spent the night with having sex… At least it was Sunday. He was allowed a free Sunday. Free of work, that is...

“I’m fine. Big brother is looking after me,” Sherlock rumbled into the phone. His hand was rubbing Mycroft's arm. A strangely tender gesture.

The previous night was a bit of a blur. They had done it once more after Sherlock's impatient saddling up. Mycroft had finally taken the chance to taste the juices that eased the way of the knot. It had been something to get high on. In the end he had taken Sherlock doggy style, quite vigorously if he remembered correctly. Afterwards Mycroft had seen the red imprints of his own large hands on his brother’s pale hips. Not that Sherlock had complained...

“Ha, I knew it. Tell me…”

So the DI had not just called to hear how Sherlock was doing. But Mycroft knew he cared for his brother, the straight Alpha policeman, bonded with a rather complicated woman. Would Sherlock leave now to solve the case?

He felt strangely relieved when Sherlock said, “Send me the file and pictures, Griffin… Fine, _Greg_. I’ll look into it… No, I won’t come. Not to the crime scene,” he added with a clear hint of cheek, making Mycroft roll his eyes.

He couldn’t resist pinching Sherlock's arse and was impressed when Sherlock hardly flinched and just batted his hand away, grinning, before speaking with the DI again.

It would not be a secret for long. Not if they found some sort of lasting agreement to take care of Sherlock's heats. It was a very weird thought, having Sherlock's friends, let alone their parents know about their sexual relationship. He wouldn’t tell Mummy, of course not. But she had a very bright mind. If she met them, she would know. But he really didn’t want to think about this now.

Having his naked Omega so close made him tingle again. Sherlock made no attempt at attacking him though after he had finished the call. “I’ll look into this and then we’ll fuck, okay?”

Mycroft rubbed his face. “Fine with me. I’ll have a shower and make breakfast in the meantime.”

“Nah. We’ll eat later. Here is the stuff. Will take me five minutes.”

“Give me ten. I need to freshen up and shave.”

“And pee?” Sherlock smirked at him.

“That, too…” Mycroft scrambled out of the bed to take care of his morning hygiene. He wasn’t surprised when Sherlock got up as well.

In the end, they shared the bathroom, and Sherlock solved Lestrade’s case while brushing his teeth and while Mycroft was shaving. The experience was surprisingly pleasant.

*****

Perhaps it was because of the broad daylight. Or the fact that he had slept so long and deeply. In any way Mycroft felt very much awake now and calmer than he had done the previous night. Calmer and stronger.

When they were back in his bed, Sherlock lying on his back beneath him, he claimed Sherlock’s mouth in a deep kiss and shuddered when his brother’s arms closed around his neck, urging him on. He felt as if he had accepted his fate – being his brother’s Alpha. He had been his (unwelcome) protector all his life, having dragged him out of drug dens and bailed him out of prison cells. He had tidied up after him more often than he could count – and now he was the provider of lust. And lust was what he could see in Sherlock's eyes when they parted for air – but also deep trust. And this view made him push the remaining feelings of guilt into the deepest depths of his mind. They were in this now, together, and there was no point in doubts anymore. They would have to see what the future would bring them. Perhaps it would be like this every three or four months, which was usually how often Omegas got into heat. Perhaps it would only be for these few days. Perhaps it would… He didn’t allow himself to continue with this thought. He had dismissed it before. This wasn’t love. At least not the love of an Alpha and his Omega.

Right this moment, Sherlock tilted his head and gave him a knowing look with a half-smile. Mycroft had no idea what to make of it. And no time to think about it because Sherlock slung his legs around his waist, grinding against him.

“Get on with it, brother, or you’ll be ridden into the mattress again.”

“I think, brother mine, I’d prefer to hammer you into it instead.” Where had this come from? Oh, yes. The Alpha in him was taking over.

And this time, it really did…

Sherlock was panting, gasping and wiggling under him when he finally took the time to seriously explore him and take him apart, moving to the bottom part of his brother’s body quickly this time. He took his swollen cock into his mouth and sucked it while tweaking Sherlock's nipples with his forefingers and thumbs, deepthroating him as if he had never done anything else.

To his delight, Sherlock had lost his ability for cheeky remarks for now, mumbling incoherent nonsense instead, and Mycroft felt a strange pang of joy whenever he heard Sherlock stammering his name, or at least a short form of it. It was too much for Sherlock to struggle all the way to the end in his condition.

He let the stiff cock go with a plop to concentrate on Sherlock's hairless balls instead, rolling them over his tongue, and Sherlock grabbed his neglected appendage to roughly stroke himself. And then he came out of his excited stupor far enough to bat Mycroft away, put his hands under his thighs and pulled his legs up in the most wanton gesture Mycroft had ever seen, exposing his wet, quivering entrance.

Licking his lips, Sherlock urged him to enter him, and Mycroft only lapped a few times at the wrinkled flesh before he lined his throbbing cock up and pushed inside, making Sherlock utter a guttural sound and roll his eyes in pleasure.

Perhaps it was this helpless, needy noise, perhaps it was Sherlock's overwhelming Omega smell or the tightness of his slick-filled hole, probably it was all of those together; in any way Mycroft lost himself in his mind-blowing arousal, fucking Sherlock with increasing force. His vision was blurry and he heard the noises they were producing in a strangely muffled way - grunts and slapping of skin on skin, the squelching sounds of their sexual union, Sherlock's begging for doing him harder, fucking him deeper. His knot inflated rapidly, locking them together, forcing him to put more effort into his strokes.

Panting heavily, he asked, “Am I hurting you?”

“Shut up and fuck me,” was the very unsurprising answer, and Mycroft grinned, and Sherlock, all dazed eyes and digging fingernails, grinned back, and it was hard to not see the comedic value of this encounter.

The Holmes men, all reason and intellect, reduced to the primitive needs of their bodies, making the bed dance and their hormones rule their world. Mycroft shook his head about this unexpected turn of his life when Sherlock's legs slung around his waist almost painfully and he instinctively bent down to kiss him, teeth clacking, tongues fighting, and then he came. And came. And came some more, producing the most embarrassing sounds he had ever heard coming out of his mouth, before he collapsed onto Sherlock very ungracefully, just so refraining from poking his elbow into his brother’s stomach.

“Oof,” made Sherlock, chuckling.

“Sorry, little brother,” Mycroft mumbled, his eyes closed firmly.

“I’ll live. For however long your thing is going to tie us together.”

“It’s all most ridiculous, isn’t it?” Mycroft smiled when Sherlock patted his back as if he was soothing an old dog.

“It is,” the detective agreed. “Never thought I’d turn into a needy mess, screaming for a knot.”

“So… It was real then? What John said?”

“Nah. I wouldn’t have literally screamed if not for the purpose of being brought here.”

“He could have picked another Alpha,” Mycroft mused. He had mentioned it before but now the sheer thought made him tingle with anger. It was silly, of course. Obviously the Alpha hormones also caused some weird sort of jealousy of ‘what if’s’ - faceless, nameless men who might want to claim his beautiful little brother.

Sherlock’s reply was surprisingly patient. “No other one available. All people we know are either Betas, Omegas themselves or straight. Could only be you.”

There was a strange undertone in this last sentence. And Mycroft realised that he liked it. Was there genuine affection? Had Sherlock really wanted to be with him? It was a brave thought after all the difficulties they had gone through with each other all their lives. “Not your archenemy anymore?” he whispered.

Sherlock didn’t answer at once and Mycroft feared he had gone too far. But then his little brother said, “You never were. And you are most certainly not now. Thank you. For indulging me.”

Mycroft refrained from saying that sex obviously worked wonders for Sherlock's manners. “I wouldn’t say it’s a chore,” he replied airily instead.

He could hear Sherlock's smile when he spoke. “If only your colleagues could see you now, Mr Iceman-Antarctica.”

Mycroft couldn’t remember having ever told Sherlock about his code name but he was not in the least surprised that he knew it. In fact he felt flattered that he had bothered to find out. “They would be amazed.”

“Totally impressed.”

“Shocked.”

“Quite. Will you tell John?” John Watson, the most important person in Sherlock’s life. Or dare he think – now the _second_ most important person? Wasn’t that awfully presumptuous? In any way there was no doubt who the most important human in _Mycroft's_ life was… and had always been, no matter how challenging their brotherly relationship had been for such a long time.

“Nah. He can figure it out himself. Can’t wait to go to our parents for Christmas.”

Christmas… It was many months away. “So you want to continue with this?” Mycroft finally opened his eyes to see Sherlock looking at him.

“You don’t?”

“Oh, it’s completely your decision. But I’ll be available for your next heat. And… any other one.”

Something shifted in the atmosphere when Sherlock smiled lightly. “Good. Because I will sure as hell need your knot.”

“You shall get it.” And Mycroft had the strange feeling Sherlock could have a lot more than just this from him. But it was too early to voice his thoughts. Too dangerous. Too foreign to him. Too scary. “Shall we cook together later?”

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. “Cook? I? Let’s say you’ll cook and I’ll watch and give advice.”

Mycroft smiled. “Sounds like a plan. Nap?”

“Yeah. Since we’re glued together anyway.”

“Will you be able to endure my weight?”

“I shall. You’re not that heavy these days, brother.”

What a nice compliment from someone who had mocked him with needing a diet for practically decades. When Mycroft closed his eyes again, he was smiling, and the smile was both fond and touched.


	4. Chapter 4

Mycroft was sure that he almost looked like he always did. He had checked himself in front of his bathroom mirror. Sherlock had not left any marks. His lips were a tad bruised up though and he had used a chapstick to smooth them – and he knew that if Sherlock had witnessed this, he would have mercilessly mocked him, but his brother had hardly been awake when he had left for work this Monday morning. Their Sunday had ended pleasantly. Mycroft had cooked pasta and Sherlock had told him he liked it with his mouth smeared with the spicy sauce. Then they’d had some more sex, also very pleasant.

Of course he had offered to stay at home like he had originally planned it. What if Sherlock had a heat-attack and needed him urgently? But Sherlock had said if he was able to come home for lunch for an hour or so, it would be fine. To Mycroft's surprise, he had mentioned he had brought a large dildo to do the deed in the meantime.

“ _It’s not quite the same as your knot of course but it will do until you are available. We can’t let the kingdom fall because of my heat,”_ Sherlock had told him, smirking.

The image of Sherlock penetrating himself with a large, pink dildo had done strange things to Mycroft, but he had nodded, relieved that he could go to work without too much of a bad conscience. He knew he was a control freak like Sherlock had always said. He also knew that eventually, their relationship would come out and would raise more than a few eyebrows. But they didn’t have to push it, did they, and he liked to take care of things himself. He would not stay late of course and instead take some of his work home. But it was still a good feeling to enter his office.

It was rather weird how Anthea was looking at him though, even though there was nothing remarkable about his appearance, and even his lips looked almost normal now. But she clearly saw that something was different about him.

“Anything the matter, Anthea?” he asked calmly while putting his umbrella in its stand.

“No, sir. Your reports are waiting for you,” she hurried to say.

Mycroft thanked her and slipped out of his coat. “Any meetings today that can’t wait?” They would have to wait thought if they were set to happen during the time he had planned to go home.

Anthea shook her head. “Nothing so far. The Foreign Minister asked for an audience in the afternoon though.”

“I shall see and contact him.”

“Yes, sir. Coffee is ready if you like?”

He smiled at her. “That would be most convenient.”

She gave him another inquiring look before she smiled back and left him alone.

Interesting. She had been working for him for six years now. They had never shared a private word, except if Sherlock was in trouble. He might have given his concern about little brother away too openly then. But they were not friends. And still she had seen at once that his life had changed over the course of this previous weekend.

How much had it changed? This was the million pounds question. There had been lots of sex. Moments of lightness. Almost closeness. They had agreed on continuing this arrangement. But only if they took this a huge step further, their lives would really change in a fundamental way. Would Sherlock want this? Hardly.

Would he want it?

He was glad to be saved from these thoughts by Anthea bringing his coffee, and afterwards, he concentrated on his work. Or he tried. His thoughts wandered off to Sherlock every two minutes. Was he awake now? He had mumbled something and turned to lie on his stomach when Mycroft had tousled his hair before leaving. Would he eat? Would he be okay? Mycroft had worried about these matters since Sherlock had been born. But now he felt the urgency of taking care of his brother stronger than ever.

And he supposed this already answered the question he had not wanted to think about anymore – the question if he was ready and willing to bond with his baby brother.

*****

_Hello Sherlock. Are you fine? MH_

_Splendid, brother. You? SH_

_Was this irony? Business as usual. MH_

_No, even though I would be better with some Alpha attention. ‘Business as usual’ means dealing with morons? SH_

_I will be there in about two hours to be of assistance. Yes. Unfortunately that is what it means. MH_

‘ _Be of assistance’. Nicely put. Is our texting not secure? Poor brother. So much diplomacy needed each and every day. SH_

_It is absolutely secure. I could have put it in drastic words if I had been so inclined. I do prefer saving them for our meetings. Thanks for your sympathy. It is greatly appreciated. I do get paid well for my inconveniences though. MH_

_You are funny, big brother. Can’t wait to hear these drastic words then. And being paid well is the least you can expect for saving the kingdom each and every day. SH_

_Am I? You would like me to talk dirty then? Not sure I am very good at it. And ‘saving our kingdom’? Not every day, I can assure you. MH_

_Of course. Let your big bad Alpha out anytime. Don’t bring masses of food when you come. My hunger is solely sexual. SH_

_I will do my best. And you have to eat, Sherlock. I do, too. Did you… use your little helper? MH_

_Fine. Never said_ _ you _ _should not eat, brother. Not in the last two days at least. And my ‘helper’ is not that little. Not yet, no. Slept in. Had a long hot bath. I may save my needs for you. SH_

_God help me. I am glad to hear you are getting lots of sleep. It is equally important. Let me finish my duties now so I can be at home in time. MH_

_Sounds good. Be prepared for being attacked. SH_

_I will, little brother. Take care for now. MH_

_And you, big brother. SH_

*****

Mycroft hardly had time to store his umbrella and hang up his coat before he was being attacked indeed. His arms closed around the lithe form of his little brother, who immediately proceeded to greedily kiss him as if his life depended on it. Chuckling, Mycroft kissed him back, feeling his groin get warm and his trousers tight.

“God, Sherlock, and I thought I had to get a dog if I wanted to be greeted so enthusiastically,” he joked when they parted for air.

Sherlock snickered against his neck. “Damn, never thought you could be so funny.” He slapped Mycroft's arse. “Time for bed.”

“I brought lunch,” Mycroft teased him, holding up a bag with two Chinese takeaway meals.

Sherlock didn’t even mock him. “Afterwards. We’ll be fast.” He sounded almost fond.

Mycroft decided to take the food to the bedroom. Perhaps it would still be warm when Sherlock's desire had cooled off. And his own, if he was honest. He couldn’t help but stare at Sherlock's bottom in his very tight trousers when little brother led the way.

“I can feel you ogling my arse,” Sherlock said smugly.

“Well, soon enough you will feel me fucking it,” Mycroft announced, deadpan, and Sherlock turned and laughed like mad.

“Ooh, my dirty-talking, filthy brother.”

“That’s me,” Mycroft drawled and couldn’t refrain from pinching a plush cheek.

 _This is nice,_ he thought when Sherlock stopped to kiss him again, a big smile still on his luscious lips. _Very nice…_

_*****_

Sherlock was screaming, lost in the depths of his arousal. Mycroft was sweating, his impossibly hard cock dripping with pre-seminal fluids. His tongue was buried in Sherlock's even heavier dripping hole, and with every drop of bittersweet slick he was licking up, more tasty stickiness filled the quivering canal. It was very messy, most arousing and exactly like it should be between an Alpha and his Omega. Because this was what Sherlock was, wasn’t it? He was _Mycroft's_ Omega. He would never have another Alpha, not if Mycroft had any say in it. And everything Sherlock had said about this ‘arrangement’ had made clear he wasn’t even considering giving himself to someone else.

“God, fuck me now, Alpha,” Sherlock growled deep in his throat, and the demanding noise made Mycroft's brain tingle.

His little brother, who had been nasty and condescending to him ever since he had become a teenager, was begging him to fuck him, to release him from his heat-agony. “Can you say please, Sherlock?” he couldn’t help but teasing him while Sherlock was positioning himself on all fours, his hole open and gaping – a blatantly vulgar invitation no Alpha in this world could have declined.

Sherlock turned his head to him and glowered at him, as it had been to be expected. But Mycroft didn’t miss the sparkle in his eyes when he hissed, “Please fuck me with your filthy Alpha cock, you menace!”

“’ _Menace’_ ,” Mycroft snorted. “And I thought this was you. And pardon me – filthy cock?”

“If you don’t get on with it this instant, I swear I… Oooh...”

Mycroft thrust into him again, even deeper than the first time. “Is this to your liking?”

“Less talking, more fucking, brother,” Sherlock quipped, but there was a smile in his voice that made Mycroft's heart tingle with more affection than he had ever felt for his baby brother. And this was saying something…

*****

“Right… Now you can relax.” They were lying on the bed now, Mycroft spooning little brother. It had been quite a bit of manoeuvring to get there from their doggy-style-position.

“Good. Damn knot.”

Mycroft grinned. “You didn’t say that before if I remember correctly. I might have heard pleas like _‘Fuck me harder with your huge thing’_ and…”

“Be quiet. That was before I came.”

“Grumpy Omega.”

Sherlock grumbled something certainly not very flattering. Mycroft kissed his neck. “It will deflate soon enough and then we’ll have lunch, hm?”

“Okay. Might want to have your knot again before you leave.”

“Brother, I don’t think I’ll survive that. I’ll have to go back to work. Or… I could...”

“No, it’s okay. Busy brother. I...”

And then Mycroft’s phone signalised a call. He had set it onto the bed stand, completely out of his reach now. But not out of Sherlock's. “Ignore it. Sherlock!”

But Sherlock had already taken it and accepted the call. Thankfully, he didn’t say anything but handed the phone to Mycroft, who glowered at him and then saw it was the PM. “Sir.” God… This was beyond embarrassing. And beyond amusing for cheeky baby brother…

“ _Holmes! Where are you?”_

“I… I’m not in the office.” He almost chuckled when he thought that he could add, _‘My knot is tying me to my Omega, which is my own little brother by the way.’_

“ _I figured out that much, thank you. Come back. There’s an emergency.”_

“Sir, with all due respect, it’s not possible now.”

Sherlock giggled into the pillow, wiggling his arse with the still deeply buried knot. It didn’t move one bit.

“ _But I need you here!”_

How could a grown man whine like this? “Sir, why don’t you tell me what the matter is and I will do my best to solve the problem from here?”

“ _Fine. Listen...”_

When Mycroft ended the call five minutes later, the totally banal problem was solved and Sherlock was still giggling.

“Bratty brother!” Mycroft hissed, being barely able to conceal his amusement.

“Is that something new?” Sherlock’s eyes were sparkling when he looked at him over his shoulder.

How could anyone have such long, perfectly curved lashes? “No, not really. I should spank you.”

“Alas, you can’t,” Sherlock retorted gleefully.

That was true. He could slap him a bit though. Or… “I could tickle you.” He knew Sherlock was quite ticklish.

“You could. And I could move uncontrollably and bash your teeth in.”

“That would be most inconvenient,” Mycroft conceded.

Sherlock smiled in a way that made his heart stop for a moment, and his words only added to it. “This is great, Mycroft. You and me. Knotted together. Laughing.”

Yes. It really was. And it touched Mycroft to hear this from his little brother. “I agree. And if you touch my phone again, I’ll let you suffer.”

“Spoilsport.” But Sherlock was smiling, and Mycroft bent forward to kiss him.

The kiss was long and tender, bare of the need of heat and rut. And it was in this moment, holding Sherlock, kissing him while still being intimately connected with him, that Mycroft realised how much he was in love with him. The love of the big brother for the younger one had merged with the desires of the Alpha and the sentiment of the man. He loved Sherlock in the most encompassing way, and now he dared consider Sherlock was returning his feelings. And had maybe had them even before he had manipulated John into bringing him here.

He knew he should say something but right this moment, his knot slipped out of Sherlock's hole, followed by the mess of slick and semen, and Sherlock made a disgusted noise and fled from the bed to get to the shower. Mycroft followed him, knowing there would be a next time. They would talk about this. They had to.

He loved his baby brother. He was head over heels in love with his own younger sibling, the unpredictable, uncontrollable Sherlock Holmes. It should be scary. And in a way it was. But he couldn’t deny a feeling of happiness he had never had before.


	5. Chapter 5

“Oh, what a lovely way to wake up, Sherlock. It is you, isn’t it?” He winced the next moment when his rapidly swelling cock was (probably accidentally) scratched by sharp teeth when his glorious Omega chuckled. “Yep. Must be you. Nobody else would bite me.”

“Smartarse.”

“Who said you should stop?” Mycroft finally opened his eyes and looked at the beautiful young man he had shared his bed with for another night. How many more would follow? Sherlock’s heat could be over anytime now.

Sherlock roughly stroked his thick cock to full hardness. “Just had to get it ready. Guess I’ll do all the work again?”

Mycroft hummed. “Since it’s early in the morning and I’ll have to go to work very soon, that would be convenient. Saddle up, cowboy.”

Sherlock snorted. “You’re probably the laziest Alpha this side of the Thames.”

“Maybe. But I’m _your_ Alpha.” Mycroft held his breath. Had this been too sentimental?

But Sherlock smiled at him before he straddled his groin to take him in. “Yes. Ain’t I lucky?”

“You are.” Mycroft’s hand flew to smooth, slim hips when Sherlock started to move up and down, making his cock swell even more in the tight, sticky heat.

He was getting heavily aroused very quickly, but he forced himself to take in the sight above him – Sherlock's pink, parted lips, his tongue poking out, his cheekbones edgy in the pale light of the dawn, his eyes closed in ecstasy, his curls bouncing. It was a sight he would never forget.

When they had been finished with their first round of sex the previous evening, John had finally called. Sherlock had been rather nice to him, to Mycroft's chagrin. Considering the way the doctor had behaved when he had brought Sherlock to him like a misbehaving puppy, he didn’t deserve Sherlock's affection. He had refrained from saying anything, but Sherlock's raised eyebrows and smirking mouth had told him it wasn’t necessary. But they had not mentioned John after the call; Mycroft had gone to prepare dinner. Sherlock would return to Baker Street when his heat was over. He had solved a few cases via phone and after looking at some emails, but there were cases waiting for him to solve in person. And his everyday life was in Baker Street. He had not told John about the developments between them. He had merely questioned the doctor about the clients he had missed and assured him he was doing fine. Soon he would be back with him and Mycroft would leave it to him if he told John about them or not.

Mycroft did hope they would meet before Sherlock's next heat started. He also hoped they would have sex even if it wouldn’t be strictly necessary. But he also hoped for simply spending time with each other. They had proven they could get along outside of the bedroom the past couple of days. Not that they had spent much time outside of it, but Sherlock had clearly dropped all the old resentments. They could be light together. They could laugh. Could they love? Apart from fulfilling the desires of their secondary genders? Was there a chance to make a real new start – for two men, so different and yet with so much in common, to get to know each other in every way and become close, become lovers? If Sherlock was up to it, Mycroft would be very pleased.

Just as pleased as his cock was now, growing in Sherlock more and more, the knot wide and hitting all the right spots within his brother, judging from the noises he was making and the happy face he was showing. Mycroft enjoyed the view but in a sudden decision, he grabbed Sherlock around the waist, lifted him up while swiftly getting up, and then there was a stunned Omega, finding himself on his back with his Alpha fucking him relentlessly.

“Wow, Mycroft!”

“Not so lazy now, huh?” Mycroft kissed his brother’s lips and then he really made an effort to take him apart, and he was quite sure his beautiful Omega appreciated it wholeheartedly.

*****

_How are you, Alpha? People making your life miserable? SH_

Mycroft smiled at his phone.

_I’m fine. And yes, always. How is life on your end? MH_

_You mean,_ _ in _ _my end? SH_

Mycroft laughed out loud. Thankfully, he was alone in his office.

_Naughty brother! Everything all right? MH_

And then he saw the next message coming with an attachment.

 _Don’t open this if you are not alone._ _ I’m _ _not alone right now. SH_

Mycroft opened the picture and gasped. This was brutally vulgar! Horribly exciting! Sherlock’s large pink dildo, poking out of his glistening hole. His trousers tented at once at the view. He even felt a pang of jealousy… How embarrassing. Nobody should be jealous of a piece of silicone.

_I couldn’t wait until you come home. Doesn’t feel like your knot. I want a dildo that looks like it. SH_

Mycroft pondered about this for a moment. It was a highly flattering wish.

_I would do that of course. But it wouldn’t work like my knot I’m afraid. MH_

_Still. Something almost like your mighty piece of meat for lonely moments. SH_

_You are developing into a poet, brother dear. MH_

_Ha. I’m close now. But there will be no delicious semen shooting up in me. What a shame. SH_

Damn, his brother knew which buttons to press. Mycroft didn’t want to do anything more than leaving Whitehall and going home to him. But he couldn’t. Not right now.

_But also no annoying knotting for half an hour. MH_

_Ah, I don’t know. I kind of like it. SH_

_I do, too. I like being connected with you. MH_

_I wish you were here now. SH_

_So do I. Very soon. MH_

_I just came. Wasn’t the same. Damn, I’m really turning into a poet. SH_

Mycroft laughed out loud. How times had changed… Now he was grinning and chuckling at his phone like any other idiot in love. He almost wrote it. _I love you_. But he didn’t dare.

_A porn poet, brother mine. Sleep a bit now. I will pay you a visit very soon. MH_

_Fine. Bring food. I might be hungry. SH_

_It is serious! MH_

_Smartarse. SH_

_The worst. MH_

Mycroft was still smiling when he left his office for another tedious meeting with even more tedious yet (in their eyes) very important people. Anthea saw his look and smirked, and he knew that she knew. Not only that he was in love but also with whom as there had never been anyone else than his brother for him. And it didn’t bother him one bit.

*****

Mycroft had not told Sherlock that he had cancelled a meeting to see him. Well, actually he had told the other participant about the decision he had made on the phone so seeing him had not been necessary anymore (and he had spontaneously decided to do this more often in the future as it saved him so much time and nerves). And now he was at home and would be able to stay for about ninety minutes. More than enough time to fulfil his Omega’s desires, hopefully to his satisfaction. The heat attacks had lessened already; Sherlock didn’t need it that often anymore. But when he required his attention, he was quite thorough…

Nobody attacked him when he came home. The house was quiet, and he frowned when he hang up his coat. Had Sherlock left for solving a case? Or… was the heat over and he had returned to Baker Street? He couldn’t imagine him doing this without letting him know though. The ‘old Sherlock’ would have certainly not thought anything by it. But if Mycroft wasn’t completely wrong, they had become decidedly closer over the past few days.

When he reached the living room, a smile came to his face. Sherlock had not left. In fact he had cuddled up on the couch and was sleeping, quietly snoring and wrapped in Mycroft's favourite blanket. And… he was wearing Mycroft's dressing gown.

Nesting? Was this really a thing? Had Sherlock chosen his blanket and clothing to smell him?

He winced when he realised that Sherlock wasn’t snoring anymore. In fact little brother looked at him with a defensive expression, daring him to mock him.

But Mycroft just smiled. “Hello, dear brother.”

“Hello. Your robe was closer than mine.”

“And it suits you much better than me,” Mycroft said, closing the distance between them to sit next to Sherlock on the couch.

Sherlock smiled now, too, obviously relieved that Mycroft didn’t plan to tease him with something as embarrassingly Omegian as nesting. Embarrassing for him, that is. Mycroft liked it very much. In fact it touched him on a level he could hardly grasp. But he chose to not speak it out. Apparently Sherlock was a bit self-conscious about it so no need to provoke a fight. He wasn’t here to fight.

And finally Sherlock was awake enough to embrace him and claim his mouth in a passionate kiss that made Mycroft's whole body tingle with want – and sentiment.

They kissed and pawed at one another for a few intense minutes before Mycroft broke the kiss. “Let’s go upstairs. It wouldn’t do to end on the floor, breaking my knot.” Because there was no doubt that Sherlock's heat had raised its head once more.

“God no. It’s needed desperately,” Sherlock confirmed this.

“Come then. Let’s make sure it can do its job safely and comfortably. No word!”

Sherlock chuckled. “Don’t worry. I like it comfortable too these days.”

“Good.” Mycroft dared take Sherlock's hand, and to his delight, little brother didn’t seem to mind. And Mycroft couldn’t help looking at their entwined fingers in wonder when they went upstairs.

*****

When they had undressed and scrambled onto the bed, Sherlock's heat had flamed up seriously. He proceeded to straddle him once more; obviously this position was his favourite one as he was the one in control. But Mycroft's Alpha instincts had developed over the past days.

“None of this.” Sherlock frowned a bit so he changed his mind about taking him missionary style. “Lie on your side,” he said, and Sherlock nodded, content with this solution. He rubbed his large member against the sticky cleft of Sherlock's arse before he lined up and entered him with very little resistance. “Played a lot with your toy, huh?” he teased him while pulling him back tightly against his front.

Sherlock groaned when he slid home. “Good toy,” he mumbled.

“But not quite as good as mine, is it?”

“Fishing for compliments, Alpha?”

Mycroft chuckled and grinned broadly when Sherlock groaned the moment he started to thrust into him with power. He nuzzled his face against his lover’s nape, sniffing at his scent gland. Holding him tight, he fucked him with deep, deliberate strokes, licking at the soft skin, even nibbling at it.

 _I want it,_ he thought. _I want to bite him._ They had not even touched this subject. Honestly, they had not done much talking. During their sexual encounters, it would have been rather weird. After them, they had slept or cleaned themselves up, and the past two days, he had left soon after it. But Mycroft knew if they had wanted it, they would have had the opportunity to talk about their future. Yes, they had agreed on continuing their arrangement. But they had not talked about their feelings for each other, and Mycroft had no idea if they ever could. He did consider the possibility that Sherlock was in love with him. He liked him better than ever, so much was sure. And Mycroft clearly loved him. Sherlock couldn’t have missed this, and it didn’t seem to bother him. But was this a foundation for a bonding? Something that couldn’t be reversed? It was too soon. Still it felt like the right thing to do. And yet he couldn’t. They had to talk about it in earnest before making such a decision.

His knot was fully inflated now, stimulating Sherlock's prostate to an extent that turned his brother into a stammering mess. And when Mycroft climaxed after a few more almost brutal strokes, he followed him, screaming. And then he gasped and Mycroft was about to ask him what was wrong when his knot deflated rapidly.

“It’s over,” Sherlock whispered.

“Yes.” Heat and rut, gone within a second. It felt like an incredible loss. “Are you okay?” he asked, holding his shivering little brother. “You want me to leave you alone?”

Sherlock turned to him like a snake. “Why? You want to go?”

Sometimes he was really an idiot, Mycroft thought about himself. “No, of course not. I just thought… you would prefer… Forget it. I’m staying, of course I’m staying if you want me to. I will stay as long as you want.” Sherlock's features relaxed but his eyes were sad, and suddenly Mycroft understood. “You wanted it to happen?”

Sherlock swallowed and shrugged. “Maybe. Yes. It’s too early, I know. I feel awful right now,” he confessed then, darkly, and Mycroft's heart melted.

He pulled Sherlock even closer, stroking his sweaty curls. He didn’t say that Sherlock should have told him. He didn’t say that in a few months, they would get another chance. He didn’t say that it was okay to feel that way after this intense experience. He said nothing for a while, simply petting and soothing his Omega until Sherlock relaxed completely, slumping in his embrace, pressing tiny kisses onto his shoulder.

They both winced when Sherlock's phone beeped with a text. Somehow Mycroft knew who this was. “Might be John. With a case.”

Sherlock nodded and reluctantly let go of him. They both knew they had to return to their respective lives. Chores. Sherlock needed mental stimulation now that his physical needs were fulfilled for now.

“Yes,” he said when he returned with the phone. “Getting premonitions, brother?”

Mycroft smiled. “Sometimes. I could drop you off at Baker Street; need to call a car anyway.” He didn’t feel like going to the office now. But where was the point in staying?

Sherlock nodded. “That would be great,” he mumbled, not sounding ‘great’ at all.

Mycroft knew he had to say something now. “Listen...” He broke off, unsure how to begin.

Sherlock gave him an inquiring look. “Yes?”

“I… I want to see you. Not only when your next heat starts.”

Sherlock nodded eagerly. “Good.”

Mycroft felt relieved. “We can go to restaurants. Or meet here and I can cook. Go see a film. Or do whatever else you want. Even...”

Sherlock tilted his head. “...have sex?”

“Would you like this? Without the necessity?”

“Yes.” Sherlock smiled. “I would. Maybe… No, you wouldn’t want this.”

“Top me?” Mycroft smiled when Sherlock shrugged and nodded. “Why not? There are no laws against Omegas taking Alphas. And let’s face it – you’re topping from the bottom all the time.”

Sherlock laughed out loud, and it was the moment that Mycroft knew for sure his brother loved him, and wanted to be with him, and in a way he did regret missing the bonding. But on the other hand, they could get to know each other so much better now, without the pressure of physical needs, and they could bond after making a conscious decision if Sherlock still wanted it in a few months. “I can’t wait to get to know you, little brother.”

Sherlock beamed at him. “Inside out?”

“Naughty boy!”

“What – I was talking about my soul!” Sherlock winked at him, and Mycroft felt ridiculously happy.

“I’m sure you did. Yes. Inside out.”

“I like this plan. A lot,” Sherlock confirmed.

“And me? You like me, too?”

Sherlock looked at him like he had certainly never looked at his dear friends John Watson or Molly Hooper. “I do. A lot,” he said quietly, and Mycroft kissed his cheek.

“Good. Because I like you very, very much.”

It was a brave thing to say for the Holmes brothers, both huge despisers of sentimentality. But Mycroft had the strong feeling that little by little, sappiness was going to trickle into their relationship. There would be even bigger words. There would possibly even be vows. And he couldn’t wait but he would. It was better like this – taking their time until they were both completely ready to make a commitment. Even though one thing was sure – he would never let go of Sherlock again if his brother was up to this. And even if it appeared like a miracle – Sherlock seemed to share the feeling.

For now, they settled for kissing for a full ten minutes before they got up to visit the bathroom and get ready to return to their everyday lives. Lives in which the other one would play a big part.

**Epilogue**

“Hey.”

“Hey John.” Sherlock took off his coat. He looked around. Nothing had changed since he had last been here. Well, perhaps it was a bit neater.

“It’s over? The heat?”

“Yep.” He let himself drop into his chair. He had missed it a bit.

John shook his head. “I can’t believe he let you go through it. You must have suffered so much.”

Sherlock grinned. “Not that much, no. And you spent a pleasant time with your new girlfriend?”

John blushed. “Yeah… I know it wasn’t that nice that I brought you to your brother.”

“Oh, never mind. It wasn’t your worst idea.” Sherlock could see the exact moment when realisation dawned on John.

The doctor winced visibly. “No. You’re not telling me that...” He broke off. “You didn’t!”

“Why? Last time I checked it wasn’t illegal. Just something that ‘is not done’.” As if Sherlock had ever cared about that… In fact, he wouldn’t have cared about ‘illegal’ either…

“No, I just mean… You hate him! You… God!” John started pacing the room. “You _wanted_ me to bring you there!”

“Maybe. Or maybe you’re just a mean flatmate who wanted to get rid of a poor Omega in heat.”

John gaped at him. “I...”

“That was a joke.” A joke with a true core of course. John might have deserved some guilty feelings for this…

For a moment, John was speechless. And pretty pale around the nose. “What now? Did you...” He bent his neck to look at Sherlock's nape.

“No. Not yet. Next time.” Mycroft had been right. It would have been too soon. And now Sherlock had something to look forward to. Dating big brother. He caught himself smiling like a fool and he didn’t mind it one bit. They had kissed for a minute when the black limousine had arrived in front of the house. Behind the dark privacy screen, they had kissed every bit as needily as they had done when they had been in heat and rut. He had touched Mycroft's face with reverence. His brother. His Alpha. His man.

John was shocked but he would get over it. “My brother will come here from time to time. Be nice to him.”

“Nice… You were always ghastly to him!” John protested.

“I was. Times have changed.” He had wanted them to change. When he had finished lamenting and complaining about being an Omega, he had started to think. Would he have to take medication for the next decades? Or was there someone who could be his Alpha? Well, he had not thought about it for very long. Perhaps… he had known even before discovering his secondary gender that his difficult relationship with his brother had the potential to become even more difficult – and a lot more pleasant.

“Fine,” John mumbled now. “I’ll support you. Course I will. Going to tell your parents?”

Sherlock swallowed. “Well. Someday.”

“Damn…”

“Yeah. But I don’t care what they think, John. It doesn’t matter. Mycroft matters. He matters.” Sherlock was surprised when John leaned forward to pat his thigh.

“It’s fine. Like I said – it’s all fine. If you’re happy...”

“I am. My brother’s great. The best.”

John grimaced. “Never thought I’d hear that from you. Anyway. Good. Bring him here whenever you want. Will go upstairs then...”

Sherlock chuckled. “We’re not going to fuck on the couch, John. We mainly want to… get to know each other better. We… lost it, a long time ago. We were close when I was little. I want to get even closer to him now.”

“Well, I suppose you got pretty close to him already...”

“Shut up, Watson!”

They stared at one another before they both burst out laughing. Sherlock was feeling great. Grounded. Grown up… He couldn’t wait for all the lovely things to happen. Probably they would also fight a bit. About Mycroft not having time for meetings very often. About himself being too reckless. About all kinds of stuff, actually. But he loved his brother. Like mad. And this, he thought, was a very good foundation.

“Tea?” John offered, and Sherlock nodded.

“Yes. And if there are no biscuits, I’ll be very cross.”

“I’ll go ask Mrs Hudson. Damn, can’t wait to see her face when you tell her...”

Oh yes. So many things to look forward to…

When John left to take care of the tea, Sherlock pulled out his phone to let big brother know that everything was fine. And he was frankly missing him already. But they would meet the next day, Mycroft had promised. Lovely big brother. Lovely Alpha. Lovely Mycroft.

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a while, but I got round to going on with this story after all. Not sure if there is a demand for it but it felt unfinished to me. I have not quite finished it yet but have a teaser for now. The story picks up where the last chapter ended.

When Sherlock was sitting in his chair after solving the second case for the day, he felt rather…weird. Foreign. There was no explanation for this feeling though. He was not in heat anymore. He could think clearly again. Well, what was the big deal? He had only been under the influence of his Omega hormones for a few days. But these few days had changed his life and somehow it felt strange to be his normal self again.

He was surprised that he didn't consider that Mycroft could change his mind now. His brother would be at work again, doing his job, free of him, free of his Alpha urges. Everything was back to normal for him as well. It wouldn’t have been so surprising if Mycroft questioned his decision to be with him now. But Sherlock knew he did not. And neither did he.

They were in love. Both of them. Crazily. They hadn’t said it out loud but there was no doubt.

He had read the notes John had scribbled for him when he had not been available. More cases he was supposed to take care of, ranging from ‘totally boring’ to ‘quite promising’. But he didn’t feel the urge to work and it had been hard enough to focus on the clients’ lamenting earlier. All he wanted was to be with his brother. Heat or not – Mycroft was his Alpha and he craved him – not with such urgency and not with such physical desperation but he longed to be with his Alpha. Well, _almost his_ Alpha. How ridiculous and really embarrassing it was that all that was missing was Mycroft biting his neck. Archaic. Idiotic. And yet Sherlock craved it. He wished he’d had the guts to ask Mycroft to do it this time. But yeah. It would have been too soon. There was no need to hurry and rush it. But Sherlock knew he would never change his mind. In fact, he had hardly ever been so sure about anything before.

Mrs Hudson had come upstairs with John after Sherlock had come home, bringing the requested biscuits. She had greeted him enthusiastically and asked how he was doing. John had snickered and Sherlock had shot him a death glare, which only had made John burst into laughter. _“I’m very well, Mrs Hudson,”_ he had said with dignity. _“_ _Better than ever, actually.”_

“ _Show her how you walk,”_ John had brought out between his giggles, and Sherlock had been confused for a moment before he had realised that the vigorous sex of the previous days had certainly had some impact on his backside. He had already gotten used – or was it addicted? – to the burn, inflicted by Mycroft's large cock, but yeah, it had to show.

Mrs Hudson had needed a second to understand, and then she had stared at him in shock. _“You mean, you, and that brother of yours…”_

“ _Yep. We fucked like rabbits. And when my next heat comes, we will bond.”_

It had been a crass way to put it, but Sherlock had wanted to see the reaction of someone who liked him and had always supported him.

She had obviously been close to passing out, and she was not a prude or squeamish woman at all, but then she had pulled herself together and assured him that if that made him happy, she would be happy, too. But then she had said, very quietly, _“He did not force himself on you, did he?”_ and this time it had been Sherlock’s turn to laugh heartily.

“ _You think that would have worked?”_ he had asked her, winking. _“No, in fact it was the other way around…”_ Poor Mycroft, really. Sherlock had made no prisoners. He had basically jumped his more or less helpless brother, who had not been exactly fond of the idea at first. But in the end, it had been for the best.

Had he gone there with the hope to end up being in a true romantic relationship with his brother? Certainly not consciously. He had wanted the only Alpha he knew he could bear to deliver the sexual attention he would need whenever he went into heat. But he supposed that on a deeper level, he had hoped for this outcome. And Mycroft had not disappointed him. He had rarely ever done so. Which could not be said about him, Sherlock. But he would do better from now on. Within his limits, obviously.

He had assured Mrs Hudson again that things between him and his brother, his Alpha, were totally fine and had asked her, like John, to be nice to Mycroft when he dropped by. The three of them had never been the best of friends and he had never cared but now that things between him and his brother had developed so pleasantly, he didn’t want any bad blood between the man he had chosen as his Alpha and his friends anymore. God… This Omega stuff had turned him into a kitten, he assumed. But only if it concerned his brother he was sure. And that was fine with him, actually. And he could not wait to be with Mycroft again later, without the raw, primitive needs of their secondary genders. Just two men in love, eager to be together. He might have nicked one of Mycroft's worn shirts from the laundry just to be able to scent him though. Not that he was building a nest or anything.

His hand was twitching to get his phone and text Mycroft but he refrained from doing it, not wanting to disturb Mycroft's concentration now that there was no utmost urgency to reassure himself of his Alpha’s attention all the time. They had already made an appointment for dinner in his brother’s house after all. He did miss him but he didn't want to appear as needy as he had done the previous days. But when they met, he would for sure show his brother how much he already meant to him – not only sex-wise.

The future had never appeared brighter to him and he had made a vow to himself to not mess this up under any circumstances. No matter what others might think of this relationship – it was right for them and that was all that counted.

Sherlock decided to call one of the clients who had been seeking his assistance in his absence. He couldn’t spend all day thinking of Mycroft after all. But with a part of his mind, he still did, and it made him feel tense in the best of ways.

*****

One should have thought things had more or less returned to normal. Mycroft was free to work a full day again and attend his meetings without having to think of a suffering Omega who was desperately craving his knot.

But still he thought of Sherlock all the time and had to force his attention back to his duties constantly. Still knowing that Sherlock was not in his house anymore, eagerly waiting for him to come home so he could jump him, made him rather… sad? It felt like a loss. It troubled him.

In fact, he had to admit that despite their conversations about meeting (today!) and bonding when Sherlock got into heat the next time, he feared that his brother could slip away from him again. He was back with Doctor Watson, the man who had so heartlessly gotten rid of him. Fine, Sherlock had planned for that to happen and the doctor had been manipulated into bringing Sherlock to him. Still… He had been behaving like an arsehole.

And what would John think about them anyway? He would find out about them rather sooner than later, perhaps he already had. What if he reacted in a negative way? Which was very probable given John’s contempt for him. And Sherlock's affection for his flatmate and blogger was well-known. Mycroft thought about all the speculations about them on the internet and the papers when the public had become aware of them after their first spectacular case. And when the doctor had been abducted and wrapped into explosives by the criminal mastermind Jim Moriarty and had been freed by Sherlock in a spectacular way – culminating in Moriarty literally exploding all over John, his head hitting the ceiling before coming down again and almost breaking the doctor’s right foot – the media had run wild, calling Sherlock's actions _‘the brave move of a secret lover’_. Mycroft had not liked these rumours and at this point he had not even harboured these feelings for his brother – at least he had not been aware of them if they had been sleeping in him before the previous week.

If John found the brothers’ relationship icky and repelling, would Sherlock reconsider? Decide to drop him and take his suppressants instead? The sheer thought was killing him, but Sherlock had always been a mercurial creature. He got bored so quickly. How could he even want to be with him for the rest of his life? Mycroft knew he could have any Alpha he liked, and not all of them were hopeless morons. He could have someone glamorous and super rich, or perhaps even a queue of them – one for each heat. Mycroft had a decent income and perhaps a good taste in clothes and food, but his life was hardly spectacular. He was a hard-working government (un)official who had to work too-long hours, never went on holiday and didn’t like people. Well, apart from the government-part, Sherlock was the same. He too lived for his work. And he shared it with John Watson, one of the very few people he did like.

Even if Sherlock really didn’t change his mind – would he move in with him when they had bonded? Or would he insist on staying in Baker Street? Of course he could have both – being in his own flat during the day when they could hardly meet anyway and then head over to spend the night with him. It sounded like the best solution. Perhaps it would convince Sherlock to really accept his bond-bite. But if John talked him out of it…

Mycroft, sitting at his desk and having been about to read a very important MI5 report, realised that he was close to starting hyperventilating. The thought of possibly losing Sherlock again was unbearable. With shivering fingers, he took out his phone and a moment later, he was dialling Sherlock's number.

The detective answered at once. _“Mycroft! I’ve got a client here so…”_

“Oh, sorry. I just wanted to… I will not… Sorry I bothered you.” He had gotten up from his chair and was pacing around in his office nervously.

“ _What? I was just about to say that I’d rather leave the room first. You didn’t think I’d change my mind, did you?”_ Sherlock sounded stunned and a bit hurt, and Mycroft cursed himself.

“It was just… Doctor Watson… He doesn’t like me and…”

“ _Don’t worry, Mycroft. He has figured it out and will fully support us.”_

“He will?”

“ _Of course. And even if he had reacted differently – it wouldn’t have changed anything about my decision. I want to bond with you as soon as possible. Or… do_ you _perhaps have second thoughts?”_

“No! Not at all! I want that. I love you.” There. He had said it. But he had no time to even feel embarrassed or overwhelmed by it. There was a noise behind him and he turned to see a grinning PM standing behind him in the open door. Dammit. Why could this man not be arsed to knock and wait until he was allowed to enter his office?!

“ _I… I love you, too. I’d have thought that was very clear.”_ Sherlock's tone undoubtedly said that he was hurt by Mycroft's mistrust, and Mycroft couldn’t have that.

Completely ignoring the man in his office, he continued to quietly talk to Sherlock. “I’m sorry. It’s just… I felt weird knowing you wouldn’t wait for me now that you’re out of heat and back in your home. That you don’t need me like that anymore. I thought you could find someone… better. I can’t make myself clear, sorry. But I’ll do better, I promise.”

He could hear Sherlock smile when he spoke _. “I get that, brother mine. It’s quite a change. And I know what you mean about feeling weird being oneself again, without the impact of those hormones. We’ll be fine. I promise. Nothing will make me change my mind and you know I don’t want anyone else but you. Even Mrs Hudson said she’s okay with it. I should have texted or called you at once. I just didn’t want to disturb you. We’re both idiots,”_ he added dryly, and Mycroft laughed and it felt wonderful to be able to do so.

“Not idiots, little brother. Just not used to dealing with sentiment. And considering our past…”

“ _Indeed. But our past doesn’t define us. Not if we don't let it.”_

“True. A whole new beginning.”

“ _Starting tonight.”_

“I can’t wait to see you, Sherlock.”

“ _Me neither. I should go back now though. There is a sobbing client in my living room.”_

And Mycroft realised that the PM was still standing behind him and had certainly heard every word of his conversation, including Sherlock's name, as he had spoken a tad too loudly in the end. He closed his eyes for a moment but then he shrugged off all awkwardness. They were not committing a crime after all and he could and would not hide this relationship forever anyway. And it was so much more important to let Sherlock know how he felt about him. “You’d better go back then indeed. I love you. See you tonight.”

“ _We will. And I love you too. Bye, Mycroft.”_ Sherlock's voice sounded soft and gentle.

“Bye, brother mine.” There would have been a lot more to say but it was not exactly the moment. Mycroft ended the connection and turned to his boss, who was watching him with an expression of sheer awe.

“You turned that acerbic little brother of yours into your Omega, Holmes? Dammit! You’re the man!”

Mycroft had expected everything but such a reaction and it was hard not to burst into laughter. He did allow himself a smile, and it was certainly the friendliest expression he had ever shown the PM. “Well, I did. What can I do for you, sir?”

For the rest of the day, it was much easier to focus on his job even though he still had to think of Sherlock all the time. But now it made him smile, not worry.


	7. Chapter 7

Was it too much? Not enough? Completely silly? With uncharacteristic hesitancy and self-consciousness, Mycroft looked at his dining room table. The best plates he owned (Villeroy & Boch) were laid out on the fine white table cloth, which he had inherited from Grandmother Mirabell. The silver cutlery. Long-handled wine glasses, polished with vigour. Two unlit candles, ivory coloured. And in a slim vase a single black rose. He had thought about the colour profoundly. Red was so clichéd. White was boring. Yellow childish. But black… He hoped that Sherlock would approve of his unusual choice. Nothing about this was usual as they were not usual men after all.

He was feeling nervous and excited. Not knowing what would happen tonight. Would they just talk? Or take their time to explore each other physically now that the urgency of heat and rut was over?

Mycroft knew he would welcome both. As long as he could be with baby brother and there were no hurtful remarks and anger. It would be more than he had ever thought he’d have with his beloved sibling.

Of course he had dressed nicely, too. A new grey suit with an elegant dark-red waistcoat and matching tie and pocket square. Uncle Rudy’s most precious cufflinks adorning his sleeves. He had seen his barber and had shaved as thoroughly as possible right after taking a prolonged shower. He had paid special attention to his fingernails, just in case they would get intimate with each other. Baby brother would not produce any omega slick after all and his entrance would need more preparation to be open for him. And if Sherlock really wanted to top him tonight, he would find Mycroft's passage squeaky clean, and there would be three different types of lubricant at hand to prepare either recipient of anal attention.

But if they spent the evening just talking and holding hands, if Sherlock was so inclined, Mycroft would be very happy, too.

They had a date. The very first real date Mycroft had ever had. His previous relationships with men, if one wanted to call them that, had never included a fine, self-prepared dinner, candles and flowers and the prospect of romance and emotional closeness. They had been brief, meaningless encounters, happening for the sole purpose of having an Omega filled his hole and an Alpha burying his knot in it. It had been primal and ridiculous, and even though the previous week had been similar in some ways, there had been the added bonus of meaning and affection. And now he would court his brother and show him how much he did mean to him and how eagerly he was waiting to be his bonded Alpha for ever.

*****

When Sherlock stepped into the house, he noticed several things at once. And that Mycroft looked devastatingly handsome and had obviously cooked for them, judging by the delicious smells that wafted through the house, were not even the most remarkable perceptions. What was really remarkable was that he felt drawn to his brother like a fly to rotten meat. Well, that wasn’t the most flattering of metaphors but the first one that came to mind when Sherlock closed the door with his heel, shrugged off his coat and was clinging around Mycroft's neck within one flowing movement. He sniffed at his brother’s main scent gland and the closeness of the man he would soon bond with, Mycroft's arms tightly wrapped around his waist as well as his unique scent – very dissimilar to rotten meat of course – made him feel dizzy and light-headed, and in a much better way than when he had gotten high in his younger years. He realised that Mycroft's warmth and smell did make him high on a much deeper level than any drug. And they had not even bonded yet…

“God,” he mumbled against Mycroft's neck. “How will it feel when you’ve bitten me? I’ll never let go of you again. I missed you so much today.” Damn… He sounded like the worst sentimental goldfish. For a moment he feared that it could be too much for his brother but Mycroft smiled and squeezed him tight.

“That will be lovely. You’ll accompany me to the office, make me tea and do government work while sitting next to my feet.”

“Tosser,” Sherlock said, fondly. Of course Mycroft had been joking, but there had been a possessiveness in his tone, an Alpha undertone, that he appreciated wholeheartedly. And somehow this image of him being at his brother’s feet, doing his bidding, maybe tied to his desk, wearing a collar with Mycroft's initials imprinted on it (and fuck, where had this come from now?!) was nothing short of arousing. It was hard not to roll his eyes at himself at his unexpected change of character. It seemed giving in to his Omega needs had some weird side effects...

Mycroft chuckled and kissed his forehead. “The worst. I missed you, too, little brother. So great to have you here again.”

Sherlock shifted to claim his mouth in a passionate kiss which was matched with equal vigour, his hands sliding over Mycroft's back frantically while the Alpha was kneading his arse cheeks. There were no heat-hormones urging him to search for this intimate contact. But still he was not the man he had been before his very first heat anymore. It felt too good to be in his brother’s arms. With their height difference, they were fitting so well. And Sherlock caught himself harbouring the absurd wish to be picked up and carried to bed so Mycroft could have his way with him. He would have never believed that he had any submissive streak but apparently, he did. Heat or not – his Omega hormones were powerful little chaps, bringing his deeply hidden desires to light. And he wasn’t even feeling embarrassed about it – rather thrilled. Because he knew that Mycroft would not make fun of him because of anything he felt. He had never realised before that he trusted his brother so unconditionally, and it was a bloody good feeling.

“Come, dear,” Mycroft eventually said, cupping his cheeks. “Let’s have dinner and talk and then we can get as comfortable as you wish.”

“That sounds very good to me,” Sherlock answered with a never-known softness in his tone.

Yes. That was it. No need to struggle about the changes that had been happening to him or feel embarrassed. He was an Omega, maybe not the most typical one but still a full blooded Omega. And he had found his life-companion, his Alpha. He was madly in love and that was totally okay as he could see the matching sentiment in big brother’s gorgeous eyes. There was no need nor room for stroppiness and competition between them. They had wasted enough time with that. A whole new phase had begun for them, and Sherlock really couldn’t wait for all the pleasures. He knew that it would all be just fine.

*****

“Is it not to your liking?”

Sherlock realised that he had stopped his fork mid-air and had not eaten a bite since… a minute? Two? He felt his cheeks flush a little. “No, it’s fine. Tastes great.”

Mycroft smiled at him. “But…?”

“I might have imagined what’s under your fancy suit…”

Mycroft laughed out loud. “Oh Sherlock. You will have all the time in the world to explore it to your liking. Not that you haven’t seen it already.”

“I know but… It still feels so new now that my body is my own again. But not the same as before. You know what I mean.”

“I do,” agreed his brother. “Does it scare you? That you still want it?”

Sherlock shook his head with vehemence. “Not one bit.” He shovelled some of the tasty pasta into his mouth. It was not really hot anymore but he didn’t care – Mycroft was a great cook. But then – he was great at everything. Especially being his Alpha...

Mycroft looked relieved but also amused. “You were never afraid of anything. Not even of Uncle Helmer’s scary dog – you just turned it into a kitten, presenting its belly to you for a rub whenever we met them.”

Sherlock smiled fondly at the memory. “Hater was just a misunderstood darling. All he wanted was to be petted.”

“A lot of people would have disagreed. He bit more people than you’ve upset in your job…”

They shared a grin, and suddenly Sherlock asked, “Can we have a pet?”

Mycroft was taken aback. “A dog?”

Sherlock would have also loved a cat, or some guinea pigs or a bunch of parakeets or whatever but yes, a dog would be the best. “Yes. I’ve always wanted a dog. You know we had Redbeard but he died when I was so little. I have plenty of time for a pet. A dog could come to me when I visit crime scenes. And in the evenings, we can take care of it together.”

“That sounds lovely. But Sherlock… We haven’t talked about this yet… Will you move in with me when we’ve bonded? You can still keep your flat and be there during the work days but I really want you to stay with me every night – if there is no case that keeps you from it, that is.”

Sherlock swallowed. Hard. “Yes. Yes, I would love that.” He had not expected this subject to come up so soon. But of course there was no question about what he wanted. “If you think you can bear having me around so often…”

“I can’t imagine anything I’d want more,” said Mycroft, sentiment so evident in his voice that Sherlock couldn’t have stayed seated if he had been held at gunpoint.

He rushed over to Mycroft and flung himself onto his lap, making the plates jump on the table, and he kissed him soundly. “I love you, Mycroft. God, I wish we could bond right now.”

“Patience, dear brother.” Mycroft squeezed his waist. “It will happen as soon as possible. If you don’t cha-…”

“Finish this sentence and you’ll find yourself over my knees!” threatened Sherlock.

Mycroft's eyes were sparkling. “Ah, no other Alpha has such a dominant Omega.”

“Not sure that this is true,” mumbled Sherlock. “I do have fantasies of you carrying me and using me to your pleasure.”

“I will never use you.” Mycroft looked appalled.

“I didn’t mean it in a negative way, brother.”

“Ah, I see. That’s what you want? Me carrying you to my bedroom? Like a big bad horny Alpha?”

“You will only break your back…”

“Okay. Let’s make a compromise. We’ll go upstairs and then I’ll carry you into the room and drop you onto the bed, hm?”

“Sounds awesome to me.” Sherlock smiled and bent his neck to kiss him again, and he felt stupidly happy.

*****

“Let me down, Mycroft. I’m too heavy!”

But Sherlock was giggling like a schoolgirl while he was half-heartedly protesting and his arms were slung firmly around Mycroft's neck. He _was_ heavy of course but Mycroft didn’t care. He felt stronger than ever. His Alpha personality had crept into his non-rut existence as it seemed.

He had never thought about that before. Had never seriously thought of himself in terms of his secondary gender, being all brains and no emotion most of the time. But then, he had never had an Omega before, not in any way that counted. But now it definitely counted. And the sentiment he had been seeing in Sherlock's eyes ever since he had entered the house had been like balm to his soul. It didn’t matter what had happened between them in the past, how estranged they had been. They had connected now on a completely new level and it would only get better from here.

Sherlock was looking up to him with admiration in these gorgeous eyes when he gently put him onto the neatly made bed. His brother was still fully dressed except for his shoes and he was all soft and smooth fabric and parted lips and eau de cologne and want in his eyes, and Mycroft did not waste any time. He slipped off his shoes as well and joined his lover on the bed, immediately claiming his inviting lips in a fierce kiss, and he chuckled into Sherlock's mouth when he was almost rudely embraced and pulled in by strong arms. Topping from the bottom again, in a way – his little brother. Mycroft wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

“Do try to not destroy my shirt, hm?” he said with a smile when Sherlock impatiently fumbled with his buttons.

“Boring,” was the predictable reply, but Sherlock's eyes were sparkling.

And Mycroft really didn't care a lot about his clothing and let his brother manhandle him out of his shirt and then his trousers, while he was doing his best to undress him as well.

Mycroft wasn’t sure what to expect – would Sherlock really want to explore him in a non-urgent way? Or would he just saddle up and ride him into the mattress once more – which Mycroft wouldn’t let happen as his Omega wasn’t producing any slick now that his heat was over; there would be lots of lubricant needed as well as a more thorough preparation. Or perhaps Sherlock would urge him to take him, to make him come undone?

Surprisingly, Sherlock decided to explore him indeed – in an amazingly tender way. One hand loosely wrapped around his cock but not seriously stimulating it for now, he covered Mycroft's furry chest with kisses and let his tongue play with his stiffening nipples – after hunting them down with the tip of his tongue through Mycroft's wiry chest hair.

When his brother moved southwards on his body, Mycroft resisted the urge of holding his breath. Sherlock had seen his soft belly already; there was no use in pretending that it was flat.

The amazing blue-green eyes looked up to him. “You’re in fine shape, brother. No need to be self-conscious.”

“Wow. And that from you?” Mycroft couldn’t help but ask with raised eyebrows.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Yes. From me. From your Omega who is in love with _you_ , not with your gut.” He frowned and shook his head. “No, that didn’t sound right. You do not have a gut. And I love you. All of you. Gut or six pack. Get used to it.”

Mycroft felt a silly grin pull at his mouth. “Come here, you eloquent little bugger.”

“I beg your pardon?!” But Sherlock grinned back and came closer, his face stopping directly before Mycroft's.

They kissed softly and Mycroft curled both arms around his brother with the sharp tongue, sharp mind and surprisingly gentle heart beneath all this acerbic behaviour that he had shown Mycroft for decades and was showing basically everybody else except for his handful of friends. Mycroft decided that he would love to watch him with a dog. Sherlock would be a good daddy for it. Or was it mummy?

“Why are you laughing?” Sherlock asked with his eyes narrowed, but the fierce look was diminished by the unmissable fondness that was staring Mycroft in the face.

He pinched baby brother’s ear. “I prefer not to tell you.”

“I bet. Now let me lick the rest of you, may I?”

“Oh yes. No objections whatsoever.”

And Sherlock did cover his entire body in nibbles and kisses and little licks until Mycroft was so hard that he could have poked a hole into the wall with his cock. He urged Sherlock to lie on his side so he could grab both their poles and roughly masturbate them to completion, and afterwards they lay side by side, heavily panting, the mess drying on their respective stomachs until Mycroft forced himself to get up and get a flannel to clean his amazing Omega and himself up.

Sherlock did not return to Baker Street that night.


	8. Chapter 8

“Anything the matter, Lestrade?” Sherlock asked in a casual tone while walking a few steps around the corpse, not taking his eyes off it. “Have I grown a horn on the back of my head?”

He heard John chuckle and Lestrade scratch his head. “You can’t even see me, mate.”

“ _Mate_?” Sherlock turned around. “Getting familiar these days?” he asked with raised eyebrows. “About your murder here, I -…”

“For God’s sake, what happened to you?” burst out the detective inspector.

“I beg your pardon? I’m here, solving your case.”

“No, no, no, you know what I mean. You’re looking so… different.”

John giggled. “May I tell him? Oh please, let me!”

“You’re having way too much fun with this, John. It’s unbecoming,” Sherlock reprimanded him, but he couldn’t quite hide his amusement. Everything was brighter these days. Even a murder scene in a rather desolate part of London. When they had arrived, a tousled black rat had run over Sherlock's foot. And still… It was a beautiful day, wasn’t it? Every day was beautiful since he had fallen for his brother for good, knowing his sentiment was whole-heartedly returned.

“Ah, I’m sure I’m not the one who has the most fun with this,” smirked John.

Lestrade was looking from one to the other. “What is this about? Tell me!”

“How nosy, Gill.” Since when was the detective inspector that observant anyway? Was he really looking so different, even when he was focused on his work? It would seem so.

“Greg!”

“Whatever. Do you want to know where to find your killer or -…”

“He’s been fucking with his brother for weeks now,” blurted John, unable to hold it back any longer.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Thanks very much. We’re not just _fucking_ , as you so eloquently put it!” In fact, they had met basically every evening, talked about everything under the sun and gone out for dinner and even to see a horribly sappy gay film. And yeah… They had fucked quite a lot – so far in the traditional way of ‘Alpha tops Omega’…

John gave him an apologetic look. “No, course not, sorry. I know you’re madly in love and do all the sweet couple things and… Are you alright?”

Lestrade looked as if he had suffered a blow to the head. “You… and your… brother?”

Sherlock nodded. “About to bond as soon as my next heat starts.”

“Your… heat…”

Oh, the DI hadn’t even known that Sherlock was on Omega? Well, if nobody had told him… In the past few weeks, they had not met him. He had been on holiday and afterwards, there had been no case that had been worth Sherlock's personal involvement. He had solved two or three via phone though – on his way to Mycroft or when big brother had been under the shower or resting next to him. And whatever John had told Lestrade about Sherlock staying with Mycroft during his first ever heat, it had obviously not been the truth.

“Oh yes,” chuckled the doctor gleefully. Well, the cat was out of the bag now anyway. “He’s an Omega. And surprise – big brother is an Alpha.”

“I had known _that_ ,” mumbled the policeman.

Who was an Omega, too… A bonded one. Sherlock would never really understand the concepts of straight male Omegas. How did that even work? He shuddered. He didn't need to know anything about that… But perhaps Gus wasn’t quite that straight and happily bonded after all? “Do you fancy him?” Sherlock asked with narrowed eyes.

“What? No. I… I… It’s just a bit… surprising.” Lestrade looked as if he needed to sit down rather urgently and needed a drink more than ever before in his life.

“Join the club,” grinned John. “Mrs Hudson almost passed out.”

“I do not see what the big deal is,” Sherlock grumbled. “He is my brother, so what? He can’t even get me pregnant. But we’re going to adopt a shelter dog.”

John burst out laughing and Sherlock glowered at him. “Sorry, sorry. But you and Mycroft as dog daddies. It’s just too hilarious.”

Sherlock threw his hands into the air. “You two are wrecking my last nerve! Will you listen to me now or do you prefer solving your damned case on your own, Rupert?!”

John laughed out loud once more. He was in an appallingly good mood today. “Rupert? Have you run out of names starting with a ‘G’?”

Sherlock growled and Lestrade hurried to nod. “Sorry, Sherlock. Please. Enlighten me.”

“Won’t help anyway,” grumbled Sherlock, but then he returned into his detective modus and explained his deductions. When he was finished, he told John to go back to Baker Street on his own. He felt the urge to visit his brother after dealing with this childishness. Just a short drop-by in Whitehall – he had not done this so far. Mycroft would be pleased to see him, busy or not. He would, wouldn’t he?

*****

One could say plenty of negative things about the PM – Mycroft could have numbered a dozen without thinking – but he was not a chatterbox. He was able to keep quiet about the most delicate secrets. Mycroft had not known that before, but it was evident now, and he caught himself wishing the big boss had blathered about the changes in his, Mycroft's, life though. It would have elegantly spared him this scene – not in the least new but nonetheless annoying.

Lady Elizabeth Smallwood, head of the MI6 in all her glory, was sitting on the edge of his desk, displaying her certainly appealing legs. Appealing to whomever, surely not Mycroft. It was a mystery to him that a woman so smart could be so thick to not notice that he wasn’t interested in what people called the fairer sex – not his opinion though; as far as he was concerned, he just had to look at Sherlock to decide that the male sex was much more attractive to him.

As it was, she didn't get it, the PM had not told anybody that Mycroft was involved with his Omega-brother now, and she was as keen on seducing him as she had ever been since they had met for the first time.

“We finally need to meet for a drink, Mycroft,” she purred.

They had just finished discussing a mission in Uzbekistan in a fully professional way and Mycroft would have loved to return to his other duties or preferably to texting with his brother if Sherlock wasn’t tied up right now. Actually, Mycroft would have rather scrubbed the floors than find an excuse for not going out with her. He wasn’t quite sure why he didn’t just tell her the truth – that he was a homosexual man and she was wasting her precious time with trying to get into his pants. But firstly, he had to work with her and he had never been very good at rejecting unwelcome attention as he was, despite his diplomatic talent, a socially awkward man when it came to such personal matters. And secondly, he was afraid that she would see it as a challenge to turn him into a straight man and even increase her efforts…

“Um, well, let me know when your husband is free; I’ve always wanted to meet him.” He congratulated himself for this stroke of genius – reminding her that she was actually married to someone else had to help, didn’t it? It was a shame that Anthea couldn’t save him from her – again. She had an appointment with her dentist. Bad timing…

Elizabeth gave him a sour look but then she smiled in a disconcertingly predatory way. “Oh, my husband believes in freedom, even in our marriage.”

Mycroft gulped. “Um. I really need to read some reports now so if you don't mind?”

“Oh, you men, always busy and no time for fun.” She slid from the desk but instead of proceeding to leave, she only moved closer to him. “I could show you how to seriously relax. We…”

A sharp knock at the door interrupted her. “Yes?” Mycroft asked, relieved to the bone. No matter who it was, they were saving him from these unwelcome advances. Even the PM would be most welcome now… Actually even a serial killer on the loose…

It was not the PM. Neither was it a murderer on a bad day. It was Sherlock, and he didn’t look pleased at all to see him in company, his mercurial eyes scanning the situation at once. “I see you are busy, brother,” he drawled, and the jealousy but also a hint of mistrust in his eyes found a straight way to Mycroft's heart.

“No, we were just finished,” he hurried to assure Sherlock, and he ignored the exasperated sigh next to him.

Sherlock did the same, not even glancing at the lady. “Good. I wouldn’t have wanted to wait any longer to do _this_.” And with two long steps, little brother was standing right before him, and he slung his arms around Mycroft's neck and plundered his mouth, holding him in an iron grip so he couldn’t escape.

But he wouldn’t have needed to worry. As soon as Sherlock was so close to him, as soon as their lips met, Mycroft blanked out everything else, indulging in the softness and tastiness of his lover’s wonderful lips, his hands grabbing for Sherlock's bum most possessively. He might have heard a sharp intake of air to his side but paid no heed to it. Everything that was worth focusing now was delectable baby brother Omega in his arms.

*****

“Hi, Anthea. Is there something different about you?” Sherlock grinned at Mycroft's PA, who glowered at him and sighed. “Perhaps… you’ve just seen a dentist?” The door to Mycroft's office had closed behind him. Probably big bro was finally doing some work now and would hopefully be at home in time as Sherlock had plans with him.

“What gave it away? That my face is twice as thick as usual?” Anthea tilted her head. “Wait. Something’s different about _you_ , too…”

Sherlock felt his cheeks actually blush as his cheekiness backfired at him. “I don’t know what you mean.” It was a lame answer and they both knew it.

The brunette grinned and then grimaced as this obviously hurt. “Right. Must be my imagination that your lips look as if you had kissed someone for approximately half an hour.”

Sherlock couldn’t suppress a dreamy smile. Oh yes, they had done so. He had vaguely registered that the old woman who’d had the nerve to come onto his brother had stormed out of Mycroft's office before he had forgotten everything around him and plunged himself into kissing Mycroft sense- and breathless until they had almost passed out from the lack of oxygen. It had to show on his lips. Well, it didn't matter. That witch would tell everybody about it anyway; the next day, there would be no other subject in Whitehall. Perhaps that had been a bit not good as he knew that Mycroft was a very private man who would surely not appreciate that his personal life was gossiped about. But when they had parted, Mycroft's hands had been still fumbling Sherlock’s arse and his trousers had tented every bit as much as Sherlock’s – well, actually more because his cock was larger… He had looked happy; so much was sure so it couldn’t be that bad, could it?

The smile died on his lips. Hell, the press would know it in no time. Which meant that their parents would know it, too… And Mummy would have their guts for garters for not telling them first… Ah. Mycroft would come to the same conclusion. He would call them and explain it. Better big brother than him… It had only been a matter of time anyway. They couldn’t have hidden it forever, and he wouldn’t want that anyway. What they did was not illegal and he was as far from being ashamed of it as he was from dating Molly Hooper.

He only now realised that Anthea had not looked in the least surprised about him being here or his kiss-swollen lips. Damn… Mycroft had not mentioned that she already knew it. “He told you?”

The PA smiled carefully, her hand reaching up to her jaw. “No. But I’ve known him for quite a while. I could see that he’s in love. And really – he hates people. The only one he doesn’t hate, apart from myself and probably your parents, is you. It wasn’t a difficult deduction.”

“And… What do you think about it?”

She smiled brightly, which was answer enough, but then she pointed at him. “That you two are the perfect match but that you should better not go breaking his heart.”

“Understood. Not going to anyway. We will bond as soon as I go into heat the next time.”

“That’s awesome.”

They shared a smile and Sherlock thought that they made quite the pair – he with his puffy lips and she with her balloon-like face. “Oh, there was an old woman in his office when I went in. Saw us kiss.”

Anthea covered her mouth with her hand but he could still see her grin. “Was she wearing a skirt that was much too short for her?”

“She did,” Sherlock said, shuddering.

“Oh, that’s priceless. I would have paid to see her face.”

“Can’t even describe it. I was too preoccupied with my brother. I should better get going now. And you should perhaps go home? That looks painful.”

The PA waved this away. “I’m a big girl. And I can’t let your brother work himself into the ground all alone, can I?”

“No. His strength will still be needed.” Sherlock winked at her before he left, feeling relieved that Mycroft had an alley in these holy halls of power. Well, hadn’t he mentioned that the PM had overheard a phone conversation Mycroft had had with him, Sherlock? So basically, it was just Mummy who had to be placated. And of course everybody in England would know that Sherlock Holmes was an Omega who was in a relationship with his brother. Well, tough chance. Sherlock didn’t care. He had never cared what the public thought about him. Only idiots cared about such nonsense.

He was happy. Mycroft was happy. That was all that counted in the end.


	9. Chapter 9

“Ah, brother dear. You look as if you’d just had a nice chat with our dear mother,” Sherlock smirked while slipping off his coat. This exasperated expression was impossible to miss. It wasn’t from a day spent with work. It was from a mother’s nagging. Half an hour, he estimated. Perhaps a bit more.

Mycroft gave him his stern eyebrows. “You know I had to call her - tomorrow it will be all over the papers and then we'd have been in real trouble. She told me she would call you afterwards.”

“She did, but do you seriously think I was crazy enough to answer the phone?” In fact, he had switched it off afterwards. It would probably show 786 missed calls from the same number by now...

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “That won’t save you, little brother. She has summoned us to come home next weekend.”

Suddenly this wasn’t that funny anymore. “I hope you told her we’ll be indispensable?” He wanted to spend the weekend with his brother, not his parents!

“I tried but you know her. She said either we come or they will drop by.”

Sherlock shuddered. That would have indeed been even worse. If he and Mycroft went there, they could decide when to leave. Preferably after five minutes… But that wouldn’t work… “Probably it would have been more convenient to beg that old witch to keep her gob shut about us.”

“I considered that but then came to the conclusion that I didn’t want to hear about the favours she would have demanded for it…” was Mycroft's dry reply.

Sherlock knew it was his own fault anyway. He had given them away. Still he muttered a few chosen words about nosy, jealous hags.

Mycroft curled his arms around his waist. “It was only a matter of time anyway. And we wouldn’t have wanted our parents to read it in the papers, right?”

Sherlock shrugged. “Still. You will have to make up for it. Like right now.”

Mycroft smiled. “And how, dear Omega, am I going to do this?”

Sherlock's mood lightened up immensely. “By letting me fuck you.” Not many Omegas took to topping their Alphas. Just another thing that was ‘not done’. Sherlock couldn’t have cared less. He wanted to bury his cock in his Alpha’s arse. And if the expression in Mycroft's tired eyes was anything to go by, his brother approved of the idea. Perhaps he had even anticipated it.

“Mm. That sounds nice.” He gave Sherlock a quick peck. “Lying around, not having to do anything, losing my anal virginity to my beautiful Omega…”

Sherlock snorted and pinched his pert little arse. Mycroft was wearing rather casual trousers but they were clinging to his appetising behind just as nicely as his usual suit trousers. He was clean shaven and smelled as delicious as ever. Sherlock couldn’t wait to have his way with him. “You are mostly just lying around when you _top_ so nothing new about that.”

“Lippy Omega.”

“I’ll let you feel my lips, don’t worry. In you.” He had not quite gotten there so far – he had let his tongue circle Mycroft's hole a couple of times but he had not penetrated it. But the thought made him feel all funny down there… In a very good way.

Mycroft licked his own lips. “I think I would like that.”

“Good. Let’s go.” And Sherlock dragged his grinning brother upstairs to explore him in a very different way.

*****

‘ _He’s just gorgeous,’_ Sherlock thought when he looked down at Mycroft, spread out on his bed for him. It wasn’t exactly the first time he was thinking this, naturally, but now that he was about to possess his Alpha in the most unusual way for an Omega, it was as if he was seeing him for the first time.

It was actually pretty hard to not mount that already fully hard cock. And what a cock it was… Huge and glistening with wetness, the large crown sitting on the thick shaft like a proud, well, crown. Sherlock had sucked Mycroft's member with devotion and he couldn’t deny that his hole was itching to just saddle up and take him inside. But his own cock was hard, too, at the prospect of burying itself in his brother’s hole. Sherlock was, basically, torn between satisfying his curiosity about how it felt to top his Alpha and his typical Omega needs of wanting to have his own hole filled. If he had been in heat, there wouldn’t have even been a question. He would have had this large thing inside him to the hilt already.

“Mine looks like a toy compared to yours,” slipped out of his mouth. He had noticed that before of course but now that he was about to use his cock on Mycroft in a way he had not done so far, it became even more evident.

Mycroft looked surprised. “Well, that’s not true, Sherlock. You’re very well hung for an Omega.”

“Seen a lot of them then?” Damn… Jealousy was so unbecoming…

“Not lately, no. But it’s common knowledge. You don’t want to do it? I’m fine with taking you if you -…”

“I do want to. It’s just a bit… weird in my head right now.”

“Oh.” Mycroft smiled indulgently. “Well, you were never the typical Omega but of course you are one. It’s not surprising that it confuses you. It’s pretty much against your nature.”

But Sherlock knew it was more than that. Being an Omega was against his nature already. He was a very dominant, very independent man. Or he had been until he had fallen for his brother… Well, the transport had no say in this. He wanted to fuck his Alpha at least this one time so he would do it.

He grabbed a pillow and urged Mycroft to lift his arse. “Nature can go fuck itself,” he declared. “I’m going to eat your arse and then I’m going to fuck you.”

Mycroft shook his head with a grin. “Eloquent indeed. Well then. Do your worst, my pretty, adventurous Omega.”

“Don’t be patronising or you arse will also get spanked,” smirked Sherlock, grinning broadly when Mycroft laughed out loud.

“It wouldn’t surprise me, little brother. Not a bit. I’m all yours.”

“I should hope so.”

“Always, love.” And then Mycroft spread his legs for him in a deliciously wanton gesture, presenting his hole, and Sherlock almost lost it right then and there.

He rearranged his limbs, grabbed Mycroft's legs and went to town.

*****

Sherlock might have a point, Mycroft mused with the part of his brain that was still working. Most of it had shut down at the feeling of having a hot tongue licking out his – squeaky clean – rear end. It felt weird to know that Sherlock would enter him very soon with more than his fingers and tongue. The Alpha in him growled and shook his head at that, wanting to take Sherlock instead. Sherlock had always teased him with being lazy and let him do all the work and top from the bottom, but as much as Mycroft felt at ease with being a playground for his eager Omega, taking from him what he needed, he did love to be the provider of fulfilling these needs. The needs of a slick, wet Omega hole.

Perhaps it wasn’t only his inner Alpha that longed to be the active part – the word ‘active’ used in a very particular way as he did love having his Omega use his knot for his pleasure. But he had thrust into Sherlock nonetheless, meeting his bouncing with his own strokes; he had not been lying around like a dead piece of meat after all. And it wasn’t as if he hadn’t acted as a vigorous Alpha often enough as well. Covered Sherlock's body with his. In a possessive but also protective manner. And that was the other reason why it felt weird to be taken. He was his older brother after all. His protector, if Sherlock had wanted it or not. The caretaker, the man in charge. It felt weirdly wrong to have Sherlock take him.

But like Sherlock had done, he pushed those thoughts away. They were more than their secondary gender. Neither of them was a stereotype. He simply refused to be a cliché. And him being the older brother or not – in this they were partners, seeing eye to eye. Sherlock was a strong bloke, a man very capable of entertaining himself and in full control of his life. Well, after getting over the drugs. And with the exception of his heat-hormones dominating him. But he wasn’t in heat now. His hole might ache for Mycroft's large cock nonetheless but it wasn’t this urgent. He wanted to be on top to see how it was and he should have that, as often as he wanted. This was love, not a game of domination.

And so, when Sherlock’s cock nudged against his opening, never used in this way before but loosened from the efforts of his lover’s tongue and fingers, and squishy with lube, he gave him an encouraging smile and let his hands slide over Sherlock's smooth sides.

His younger brother grimaced and wriggled. “Don’t tickle me, brother, or I’ll lose my erection!”

“Ah, as if. You just have to look at my sexy cock to have yours rise to full hardness in an instant.”

“Thank God you’re not smug at all,” Sherlock said, dryly, but he was grinning. And moved forward surprisingly gently.

“I won’t break, brother, you can get it in.” But Mycroft did bite his lip when Sherlock slid home. He might not be nearly as large as Mycroft was but Mycroft's hole was not designed for taking a cock like Sherlock's was since he had presented as an Omega for the first time. It did hurt a bit.

“Tell me if you want me to stop. Well, I can deduce it from your face. You don’t like it.”

“Nonsense, little brother. I’m fine.”

“And a bad liar…”

“Get on with it now, fuck me,” Mycroft said deliberately crudely. He may not be that fond of being penetrated but he wouldn’t deprive his beloved from finding out how it was to use a man’s hole.

Sherlock regarded him with his eyes narrowed but he did start to fuck him, slowly and carefully, and his face was showing an expression of wondrous delight, and Mycroft would have gladly felt like being invaded by a broomstick for hours if he could just see his brother so immersed and aroused.

And it did get better. Sherlock, watching him without a break, shifted his weight and changed the angle of penetration until Mycroft felt more comfortable with being taken, and began to feel highly aroused when Sherlock managed to hit that certain spot inside him. He wouldn’t have expected it to be so responsive but he loved the increasingly vigorous stimulation of his secret gland, his hands digging into Sherlock's shoulders now, his feet urging him on to give him more, to take him harder.

It was over too soon. But he loved the feeling of his lover exploding in him, filling him up with his hot essence, and when Sherlock wrapped his hand around his throbbing cock, he shot his load all over his torso with his Omega’s cock still buried in him.

*****

Wow… There was no other word for it. It hadn’t just been the physical feeling of having his cock engulfed by big brother’s decidedly tight canal. It had been the trust that Mycroft had shown him. The proof that he would do anything to make him feel good. He had not liked it in the beginning. Perhaps that was just to be blamed on Sherlock's inexperience. He didn't like to think that he had hurt his brother with his clumsiness. But Mycroft had let him go on and thank God, he had been enjoying himself in the end. But even if he had not, he would have still never told Sherlock to stop. And he would have indulged him if Sherlock had suggested doing it again. Which he probably would. And Mycroft would even agree if Sherlock wanted to do even more unusual things. Mycroft would _always_ do what Sherlock wanted, bottom line.

And that was the real reason why he was feeling so good now, his head resting on his brother’s hairy, sweaty chest, still bearing traces of his climax even though Sherlock had used two tissues to clean him up. And licked a bit of the mess up, too.

Listening to Mycroft's steady heartbeat, his brother’s arms closed tightly around him, Sherlock felt blessed. This was his Alpha. Not some mindless brute who loved possessing his Omega, using him to his own pleasure. Mycroft would always put him first. Their sex was great, no matter in which way, in or out of heat. But the emotions involved were even greater.

Damn… Next, he would turn into a whiny creature, sappy and needy. Nah. He would not. It was okay to feel. His sentimental side, not even necessarily shown with words, was safe with his brother. So was he.

“What would you say if I wanted to prod you with needles?” he mumbled against the damp skin beneath the hair on his brother’s chest.

Mycroft chuckled against his cheek. “I would run.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“Love you, Alpha.” He smiled when Mycroft tousled his hair.

“Love you, too, my pretty Omega.”

And that, thought Sherlock, summed it all up very well.


	10. Chapter 10

“What?” Sherlock looked up from the cold case file he had been skimming, glaring at his flatmate, who was giggling in the most undignified way.

“Ah, nothing. Just read a funny story by a former lover of yours, saying that you couldn’t get enough of his large Alpha cock. You were gagging for it all the time as it seems.”

Sherlock growled and rolled his eyes simultaneously. For three days now, the internet had been running wild with completely fictional stories about his past as a horny Omega. The gossip sites had a field day with the juicy piece of news about him being in a relationship with his mysterious Alpha brother. Damn Smallwood… Mycroft had had a word with her and she had reluctantly apologised for spreading the word, but it was too late now of course.

“You should sue them. Or have your brother deport them to Siberia.” John put his phone away with an exasperated shake of his head. Even though he found this matter amusing, he was also offended on Sherlock's behalf, which was actually pretty touching but also annoying as he kept bringing the subject to attention whereas Sherlock would have loved to just ignore it. Mrs Hudson had shooed the reporters away, threatening to douse them with hot water if they came back. Thank God it had helped.

Sherlock sighed. “I certainly won’t waste my time by demanding to restore my honour or get financial compensation. And after all I _am_ an Omega and I _am_ in a relationship with my brother.” At least Mycroft's first name and job position had been left out. He had only been called a ‘government official’. Either the publishers knew who he was and how much power he had or they knew nothing about him and then they never would. If Smallwood had kept silent about that at least, there would be no way to find out. Mycroft’s position was very hush-hush after all. He was the dark shadow in the cellars of Whitehall, the grey eminence behind the PM and his cabinet of morons. Oh, he could have taken care of everybody who posted such nonsense about Sherlock. But what for? Next week, nobody would talk about it anymore. And if the criminals didn't take him seriously anymore because of knowing about his secondary gender, well, they were in for a surprise…

“People are making money by spreading lies about you,” grumbled John.

“Well, you could tell them some truths and make a fortune – ‘how I brought the detective and his scary brother together by dumping my whining Omega flatmate at the big bad Alpha brother’s doorstep’ or something.”

John looked seriously hurt. “I would never sell you for anything! And I did apologise for that. Hell, you _wanted_ me to do it!”

“God, John, where have you left your sense of humour?” They needed a fucking case so he had something reasonable to pass the time with while Mycroft was at work until God knew when as he had another silly meeting to attend. Not this ice-cold stuff that had been unsolved for twenty years. Who cared about it now at all? And why was half of the paperwork that had been done back then missing every time? Sherlock had felt increasingly frustrated over the past few days. Not enough Mycroft (i. e. not enough sex, cuddles, kisses and none-idiotic conversation), too much nonsense and boredom...

And, as if on cue, Sherlock’s phone beeped, interrupting John’s sulky grumbling, and he hastily grabbed it. “It’s Lestrade. Gerald. Do you have a case?”

*****

“Fuck, I’m getting too old for that,” John panted, looking around with his eyes narrowed. “Where’s he gone?”

“Into there.” Sherlock pointed up the stairs of the bedraggled building. His deductions had led them directly from the crime scene on a parking lot of a questionable supermarket to the killer, who had fled with a Staffordshire bull terrier mix on a leash. They had chased after him of course and now they were both out of breath.

“We should wait for Lestrade,” John mumbled.

“Then he’ll get away. Let’s go.” Finally some adrenaline outside of Mycroft's bed!

They hastened up the stairs and carefully opened the door, John having his gun raised. The next moment, the skinny man, reeking of sweat and blood, stormed towards them, screaming, and Sherlock made an elegant step sidewards, and before John could even tell the killer to stand, he tumbled down the stairs like a sack of spuds, directly onto the feet of DI Lestrade, who had kept up with them faster than Sherlock had expected.

“Wow, thanks guys. On your feet, mister. You’re arrested for…”

Sherlock blanked him out, looking around the dark, shabby hallway. “That was disappointing,” he grumbled. “Way too easy. Oh.” He saw the dog, still on the leash, limping towards them, a resigned look in its dark, soulful eyes.

“We can’t leave it here,” John said, scratching his head. “Seems like a nice one.”

Sherlock got onto his knees. “Hello, friend. Your ghastly daddy won’t come back. Wanna come with me?” They had wanted to get a dog anyway, hadn’t they? Thanks to Mycroft's hectic schedule, they had not had time to go searching for one.

The brown, knee-high dog came closer and sniffed at Sherlock's hand before carefully wagging its tail. It was skinny and rather dirty but very friendly as it seemed.

“Guess that means ‘yes’,” smirked John. “You reckon Mycroft will like it?”

Sherlock knew what he was insinuating – that the former attack dog of a murderer, a bastard that looked shy and depressed, was probably not the dog of choice for Mr _Sophisticated-And- Elegant_ Mycroft Holmes. “Of course,” he told John. “He’ll love it. Let’s go, buddy.”

“The dog needs a name.”

Sherlock nodded. Probably not ‘Hater 2’. Something nice. Ah, he and Mycroft would choose the name together. “Guess it should see a vet for the limp.”

“I feel it, man,” John said dryly, hinting at his own (psychosomatic) limp, back in their early days.

“Ah, it will throw the imaginary crutch away like you did.”

John grinned. “Arsehole.”

“No jokes about that, please, I lately had plenty of them already,” Sherlock deadpanned, and they both laughed while leading their new friend into the light.

*****

Sherlock stood dead when he had stepped onto the pavement, the still nameless dog on the leash. He had seen a very friendly and apparently competent vet, making sure the leg was seen to and getting the necessary vaccinations for his new pet as Sherlock doubted very much that its former master had taken care of it… The leg was fine apart from a pulled muscle – probably resulting from the killer running away from them for fifteen minutes straight. It was a bit underweight but nothing some good meals couldn’t take care of.

He had been about to buy the necessary equipment for his new companion. But first, he had to deal with a rather unexpected challenge…

“Molly. John told you I’m here?” He was not that far away from Bart’s – he had not been at the hospital for an eternity as he had pretty much lost interest in examining any body parts that didn't belong to his sexy, breathing brother. He would have a word with his loose-tongued flatmate…

Molly nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. Well, they were not full to begin with. She looked absolutely horrible. When had she last washed her hair? Her crumpled blue blouse was bearing stains of suspicious origin and her shoes were not exactly clean, either. Being in such a state was very untypical for her. For a short, stupid moment, Sherlock thought she might be ill. But then he realised that her condition was only related to his new status.

He sighed. “It’s not your business.” That wasn’t very kind but true anyway. He wasn’t in the mood for a love-sick woman he had never even shared a meal with.

“So you really…?” She looked at him with watery eyes.

Had she never understood that he had only manipulated her into giving him what he needed? Like eyeballs, corpses to whip as he liked to, access to a very good microscope, this sort of thing? What had she thought – that she was the love of his life? “Of course it’s true. My brother is my Alpha. We’re going to bond when I go into heat the next time.” Which would hopefully be very, very soon…

“But… He’s your _brother_!”

It was pointless to argue with her. She was no dumb bimbo after all. She knew that an Omega needed an Alpha, not some mousy Beta girl. Even if he hadn’t been gay and if he had desired her in any way, it wouldn’t have worked. “Well, I am aware,” he said dryly. “But it’s not illegal to bond with your brother. If you excuse me now, I have a dog to feed and I need to do a million other things before I can meet the Alpha in question.”

Two more days until they would go see their parents… Dear Lord… Sherlock had still avoided talking to his mother. Why did he have to keep up with all those people? He wanted Mycroft, cases and this dog.

“I thought you liked me.”

Her voice was so quiet that he could barely understand her, and he couldn’t help rolling his eyes. “I… We’re friends. That is not going to change.” God. This was awful. He so didn't need that.

She nodded, biting her bottom lip. “Yes. Friends.” And with this she turned and ran off.

Sherlock looked after her, shaking his head. “She didn't even greet you,” he said to the dog. “Well, Daddy Mycroft will do it.” He had texted him that they had a dog now, including a picture of him and the bull terrier.

Mycroft’s reaction had been a rather careful, _‘Oh, fine.’_

Sherlock looked at the dog, which was staring up to him with its melting eyes. Nobody could resist such eyes! “He’ll love you,” he assured the pet. “Let’s get some nice shampoo for you and then you’ll be the prettiest dog in London.”

The dog seemed to grin at that and it waggled its tail enthusiastically, and Sherlock smiled. Dogs were so easy to please. A friendly word and they were happy. “And Grandma will love you, too,” he chuckled. Then he sighed. He was not really looking forward to going ‘home’. But needs must, as they said. And who knew – perhaps Mycroft could be persuaded into having some real quality time with him under their parents roof… Now that was something to look forward to.

When he walked off with his dog, he was grinning.

*****

If the people who called him the Iceman behind his back could only see him now, Mycroft thought with some irony. He would lose all the respect (and fear) he had built up for ages. He, sitting in his chair, a dog that was too big to be a lap dog cuddled up on his lap, looking at him with eyes that could have literally melted ice, Mycroft’s hand gently stroking the soft, freshly washed fur. It was one of those dogs that looked as if they were wearing eyeliner, a dog not exactly pretty in any conventional way – hell, it was an attack dog, at least partly – but a dog that had the character of a lamb. And this dog had not had a very pleasant life before. Its ribs were clearly visible and one could just sense that it hadn’t been happy with its former owner – the murderer…

Mycroft winced and then grimaced when he realised that Sherlock had just taken a picture of them. And was continuing to do so. “Sherlock…”

“Ah, we need that for our new family album,” smirked his insolent Omega. “You two are looking so cute!”

Mycroft grinned. “If _I_ called _you_ cute, you would throw a tantrum.”

“I would. Because I’m a nasty pirate. But you and our dog are cute daddy and baby.”

Mycroft wondered if Sherlock really meant this despite his mocking tone. He was an Omega after all, bearing some sort of…. mother instinct? With another partner, he could have had a kit. The image of Sherlock carrying a baby around was too hilarious, and Mycroft couldn’t suppress a grin.

“What?” snapped his brother, immediately deducing that the grin was about him.

“Nothing, little brother. So… It’s a lovely dog. How are we going to call him?”

Sherlock gave him a suspicious look but let him get away with this transparent distraction. “Well, I thought maybe we should give him a rather normal name – nothing intimidating. Something with two syllables, for calling him.”

Mycroft nodded. “He really looks intimidating enough. Now I can let you walk everywhere, knowing you are safe.”

“I beg your pardon?!” Sherlock glowered at him, hands resting on his hips. “You think I need a protector?”

Ah, it was fun to rile his dominant Omega up a bit. “Of course. Now you’ve got two. Your scary Alpha and your mean looking dog. No robber will dare step in your way. No horny other Alpha will be all over you when you’re in heat.” He gently fumbled with the pet’s left ear. “Even though he’s just a little angel.”

Sherlock's expression softened. “You big git. But yeah. If it makes you happy, you’re both my protectors. So? Any name suggestions?”

“How about Jesse? I think he looks a bit like Jesse James.” He couldn’t have explained this but it was true anyway. And he had always liked this name. Actually, when Mummy had brought baby Sherlock home from the hospital, he had asked her if they could call him ‘Jesse’ – instead of burdening him with a name in the same category as ‘Mycroft’. But well… Here they were and he was the first to admit that ‘Sherlock’ was perfect for his brother, who would never want to be called by his actual first name – ‘William’. Not pirate-y and mysterious enough for sure...

Sherlock laughed. “That’s not exactly a cuddly association. But yes. ‘Jesse’ sounds great.”

He walked over to Mycroft and sat down on the armrest of his chair. Mycroft immediately curled his arm around his waist and now had an armful of baby brother and a lapful of new pet and it felt decidedly pleasant, dog hairs clinging to his trousers aside. “Do you agree?” he asked the dog in a very serious tone. “Is ‘Jesse’ your new name?”

The dog looked at him with his curious black eyes and barked once, and both Holmes men laughed.

“He’s happy with it.” Sherlock bent down to kiss Mycroft's cheek. “Thanks for letting me keep him.”

Mycroft would have let him keep a grizzly bear or a dromeda if he had brought that home, and Sherlock knew it. “My pleasure, little brother. Hope our parents won’t be afraid of him,” he added, winking, and Sherlock chuckled a bit gleefully before he sighed.

“Must we go there?”

Mycroft could have imagined a nicer weekend than facing their parents now that they were a couple. But he nodded, knowing there was no backing out as well as Sherlock did. “I’m afraid we must.”

“Well then. But only if I get to ravish you in your old childhood room.”

Mycroft gulped. He should have seen that coming… “Well, we will see,” he said vaguely. Sherlock might have a kink for doing it in their parents’ house but he wasn’t very fond of the idea. He wasn’t prudish or anything but… there were limits...

Sherlock gave him a knowing grin. “Yes we will, brother dear.”

Damn… Would he ever be able to say ‘no’ to baby brother? Mycroft smiled when Sherlock’s mouth was pressed on his lips. Ah. He knew a losing game when he saw one...


	11. Chapter 11

Sherlock sighed when he loosened his seat belt. He had been driving the car that Mycroft had rented for the weekend. Mycroft himself was sitting in the passenger seat with the dog on his lap. “Into battle,” the detective said darkly.

Mycroft grinned. “There are no fiendish enemies waiting, little brother. It’s just our parents.” He grimaced but chuckled when Jesse licked his face.

“Oh, you know I would prefer some rotten criminals any day.”

Mycroft had no doubt. “Behave, will you? For me?”

“Hmpf,” was Sherlock’s answer before he climbed out of the car and walked to the trunk to get their bags.

Poor boy. Spending two-and-a-half days with their parents had to be the equivalent of hell for him. It wasn’t as if he _hated_ them. They just annoyed him to no end…

They were walking up to the house, both carrying their respective bags, Mycroft holding the leash, when the door opened up and the elder Holmes hurried outside to greet them. Their expressions were a mix of happiness to see them both after months – and of being unsure how to deal with the new situation. But Mycroft saw no disgust, just the wish to support them. He just hoped that Sherlock wouldn’t provoke them too much… Little brother loved to do that…

“Boys, finally.” Father had reached Mycroft and, since there was no free hand to shake, he awkwardly patted Mycroft's shoulder. “Is that your dog?” he asked, looking down at Jesse, who waggled his tail with careful friendliness.

“It’s _our_ dog,” said Sherlock before Mycroft could reply. “He is totally harmless. And the closest thing to a grandchild you’ll ever get so welcome him in the family, please.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes. At least he had said ‘please’… The parents were baffled by his statement but then Mummy bent down to pet Jesse’s soft head. “It’s a nice dog. I’ll get a blanket for him.”

Mycroft had brought one, too, among plenty of other stuff like bowls and toys, but he didn't mention it. Should their mother spoil their new dog a bit. He watched Sherlock being pulled into a hug by their mother before Mummy came to him to embrace him as well while Father greeted Sherlock, and he could see how happy they were to have their sons with them, at least for a few days, and that Sherlock was not quite as annoyed as he was pretending to be but also a bit touched by the warm welcome.

“Softie,” he mumbled for his brother’s ears only when the parents had turned to go back to the house, and Sherlock elbowed him in the ribs.

“Sucker,” he mumbled back, a bit too loud, and Mummy turned and looked at them – and then she gave them a smile full of affection, and Mycroft was suddenly glad to be here.

*****

“Damn… I wouldn’t have thought they’d suggest us sharing a room.” Sherlock took his shirts out of his bag to store them in the wooden wardrobe.

Mycroft had been surprised as well. His old room had been turned into a guest room a long time ago and Sherlock's was their mother’s haven, filled with all kinds of books and items for crafting and whatnot. There was another guest room on the top floor though – next to their parents’ bedroom. “Probably they wanted to save us the effort of sneaking into each other’s room,” he offered while grabbing his socks from his bag. Jesse was lying on his (pink!) blanket, watching them with eyes full of adoration. He had been given fresh water and a chew bone and was fully relaxed, being at a foreign place once again since he had joined their life only a few days ago. He was such an uncomplicated, pleasant companion, Mycroft thought with affection. That people gave them a wide berth when they took him out for a walk was a nice side effect, too...

“They really took it well,” Sherlock mused.

“I told you. They’re our parents. They had known after all that we are not the most common of people.”

“Understatement of the year,” snickered Sherlock. “Still. It is something to wrap your mind around – your sons shagging like there’s no tomorrow, about to bond…”

“They hardly know anything about our sex life,” Mycroft protested, feeling his cheeks flush a bit. Which was stupid of course. Sherlock was right. The parents had to know that they had an active sex life, young love and all. And indeed – they had accepted it seemingly without much reservation. What they had been discussing behind closed doors after he had called them was another question. But Mycroft was very grateful for their support. Perhaps, deep inside, the Iceman wanted to be a good boy for his Mummy. And perhaps that was embarrassing but he was still glad their parents accepted them. Even though their liaison was not forbidden, that was not something to be taken for granted.

“Well, they must have done it at least twice themselves,” stated Sherlock, and Mycroft laughed out loud.

“Oh brother. You are so funny.”

Suddenly he had two strong arms slung around his neck. “And sexy, right?” purred Sherlock, with a suggestive twinkle in his eyes.

Mycroft pecked him on the lips but retreated when the kissing threatened to get heated. “Behave, brother dear. We’re going to have dinner with our dear parents in ten minutes. Don’t start something you can’t finish anyway.”

“Oh, ten minutes are plenty of time,” protested Sherlock, and sighed when Mycroft gave him his stern eyebrows. “Spoilsport.”

“The dog would watch us, too!” So far, they had made sure that Jesse was in another room when they got intimate. This was really nothing for innocent puppy eyes.

“He’ll have to get used to it anyway.” Sherlock sighed once more. “I’ll go to the bathroom. Be right back.”

“Sherlock?”

“Hm?”

“You are, you know?”

Sherlock gave him a confused look. “What?”

“Sexy.”

Mycroft’s heart made a little flip at the smile his brother was giving him for that. Sherlock came back to kiss him again before he hastened out of the room.

“He’s _very_ sexy, your mummy,” he told the dog.

“ _I heard that!”_ came from outside the room, and Mycroft burst out laughing.

*****

Sherlock looked positively traumatised when they returned to Mycroft's room more than an hour later. “I can’t believe you agreed to that!”

“Well, I had to give them _something_. It won’t be a big deal. Just some food and spending some time together, and you heard her – nobody else will be invited; it’ll be just the four of us. Well, five,” he added with a fond glance at their dog.

Sherlock let himself drop onto the bed, his right hand absently tickling Jesse’s head. The dog looked a bit frightened by Sherlock's mood – he really was a very sensitive animal. The stroking did seem to make him relax though.

Mycroft thought that little brother was exaggerating a bit. It could have been much worse…

Dinner had started with good food and a casual conversation about line dancing, cases and government work – and then Mummy had attacked, suggesting, or rather demanding, a bonding ceremony as soon as it had happened.

Sherlock had almost choked on his dinner, and Mycroft had felt the strong urge to burst out with hysterical laughter.

“You found it funny!” Sherlock accused now, giving him his patented death glare.

“I did. I just had to imagine you in a white dress with a fancy veil and a nice bouquet of flowers in your pretty hands.”

“Tosser!” whined Sherlock, batting at his arm, making Mycroft giggle and Jesse bark in confused excitement.

Their mother had not gone that far; Mycroft assumed she rather saw them in matching suits, which was quite a nice image as far as he was concerned, but he chose to not mention that now.

“It will get all… sappy and silly and I loathe it.” Sherlock sulked, and he did that so prettily.

“Nah. We’ll just have dinner or better lunch with them, in London preferably, and that’s it.” Mycroft pulled a reluctant Sherlock into his arms. “Why are you so upset about it? I know it’s embarrassing but…”

“No. Not embarrassing. Just… don’t want to share it.”

Mycroft's heart melted. “It will just be you and me when it happens.” Well, obviously… Their mother wouldn’t exactly want to watch their bonding sex… And he wouldn’t allow _that_ for sure! “We can… I don’t know, say a few words, just to each other.” He didn't really know much about bonding rituals. Before he had gotten together with Sherlock, he couldn’t have cared less about such silly stuff, and now that it would happen, he wouldn’t want to do what everybody did. That was not what he was about, and certainly not Sherlock, either. “Our parents will just get to see us days later, with rings and looking happy.” He just couldn’t have refused their parents meeting them afterwards but he wouldn’t have wanted to have an awkward ceremony in their presence, either. Sherlock was right – this was just about them and their unusual love. It was a compromise everybody should be able to live with, even stroppy little brother.

Sherlock relaxed in his arms. “Okay. The things we do…”

Mycroft kissed his forehead. “What do you want to do _now_?”

Sherlock's head snapped up, his eyes glistening. His right hand slid downwards and ended on Mycroft's bum.

Mycroft smiled and tousled his hair. “Always the insatiable boy, hm?” He might have just been a bit manipulated by the master of this art, he conceded, but he couldn’t find it in himself to mind.

“You wouldn’t recognise me otherwise. Shower!”

And Mycroft let himself be dragged towards the bathroom, a feeling of peace and content in his heart – and a thrill of anticipation in his groin.

*****

This still felt so special – moving in baby brother. He had prepared him meticulously, making sure he would not be in pain. Ah, he did miss their heat/rut sex in which Sherlock had been so slippery wet and open all by himself… His cock grew at the memory. This was great, too; no doubt about it. He just had to start carefully, and Sherlock was dripping with lube, not natural slick.

But of course Sherlock was very eager, even out of heat. For a change, he was lying on his back, looking up to Mycroft with greedy eyes. “Come on. Move!” Eager… and impatient...

“Be quiet,” Mycroft hissed.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “They are upstairs and the walls are thick. They’re not going to hear us.”

Mycroft was not that sure about it. And it felt… weird to have sex in his old childhood room, even though basically nothing in it reminded him of that time. Jesse was still in the living room; they would get him when they were done. It was pretty awkward, this all. Despite the physical pleasure he was feeling, being engulfed by the constricting walls of Sherlock's tight canal, he could feel his erection wilt.

Sherlock felt it, too. “God, Mycroft. No erectile dysfunction now, please. You’re not even forty!”

“Very funny! I’m nervous.”

“Okay. Get out of me.”

Mycroft bit his lip, the desire he had felt having turned into embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Sherlock rolled to his side and stood up. “Come.”

“Come where?”

“It’s still warm. We’ll go to the lake.”

“Are you mad? You think sex in public will make it easier for me?”

“Damn, you are a prude, Alpha! Nobody goes there. It’s their property. There’s a fence. It will be totally safe. And we’ll make it quick, okay?”

Mycroft would have been damned if Sherlock wasn’t literally batting his eyelids at him. “You naughty menace,” he mumbled, and Sherlock nodded.

“I am. And I’m also your horny Omega who demands your Alpha attention. I need that big cock up my arse.”

Mycroft could literally see his cock rise again. Damn… His brother needed a gun license for this voice… Especially when it said such words. “Fine. But only if the house is quiet.” He grabbed for his trousers.

“What – you want to get dressed? Isn’t that a waste of time?” teased Sherlock, and Mycroft rolled his eyes.

“Go on like that and I’ll drown you in the lake, not fuck you.”

“I’d like to see you try,” was the unimpressed reply.

*****

“If a frog nibbles at my balls, I’m getting out.”

Sherlock, his arms slug around Mycroft's neck, his legs firmly in place around Mycroft's hips, snorted against his brother’s neck. “You are such a…”

“Finish that sentence and I won’t do _that_.” And with this, Mycroft slid into him, and Sherlock moaned and bit into his brother’s shoulder, the feeling of Mycroft's warm hands on his cool, wet arse combined with his hot cock sliding into him almost making him come instantly, his arousal nearly matching the desperate need of his time in heat. Damn… It was all big brother’s fault… Hot, sexy big brother...

“You were right. It’s great out here.”

It really was. The air was still warm, and so was the water. Fine, it had been a bit chilly in the beginning but a bit of swimming had warmed them up. As had some passionate kissing and would some vigorous fucking. The lake was surrounded by thick bushes, Sherlock could hear the soft quacking of some sleepy ducks, and there were surely plenty of frogs in it, which hopefully had no interest in his lover’s hairy balls as Sherlock considered them his very own property.

He had filled himself up with some more lube before they had left the house on silent feet, and so Mycroft was fucking him with obscene, squelching noises, his large Alpha cock reaching points that no usual man would have ever hit.

Sherlock got completely dizzy, clinging to his brother for dear life while he was taken with increasing pace.

“You okay?” panted Mycroft, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of Sherlock's arse quite painfully to hold him place, slippery as he was.

“God… Give me… more!”

And Mycroft chuckled and obeyed, and it didn't take long until Sherlock showered his Alpha’s stomach with his hot semen and felt the matching eruption deep inside him when his muscles strangled the orgasm out of his brother’s cock.

Mycroft held him for a moment – before he picked him up and carried him out of the water.

“Too… heavy,” mumbled Sherlock in a sleepy protest, but Mycroft just kissed him on the hair and made sure that he reached the shore safe and sound. He dried Sherlock off quickly before taking care of himself, and when they had walked back to the house, their clothes under Mycroft's arm, they fell onto the bed together after getting their dog from the living room. Sherlock fell asleep in an instant, eventually having a dream in which a frog with a large cock was sitting on his hand, and he grinned in his sleep and unconsciously snuggled even closer against his brother, his Alpha’s arms holding him tight.


	12. Chapter 12

It happened during one of the most tedious ‘cases’ that Sherlock had been bothered with for a long time. Without John’s glowering whenever he was either yawning or completely drifting away, and without being too tired after a sex-filled night to just show the woman out, he would have put an end to this torture half an hour ago.

Mrs _Whatever-Her-Name-Was_ just explained for the sixth time, if he had counted correctly, that the police had refused to help her when he felt something like blubbering bubbles in his groin. Which quickly moved to his arse. It started to tingle and his arsehole was twitching, and he realised that he was leaking in two places, too…

He shot up from his chair. “I need to leave. John, solve the case. Jesse, come.”

“What?” was the expectable and outraged reply from his flatmate while the dog obediently got up, his tail expressing excitement after this boring time in the flat. “Do sit down and…”

“Can’t. Slick’s dribbling out of me…”

John gaped at him. “You mean…”

“Yes. I’ve gone into heat.”

“Oh dear!”

“Oh, Mycroft!” Sherlock smirked and grabbed his coat while running out of the room, his legs prickling, the hair on his arms standing up.

Hopefully his brother was not tied up at the moment. Sherlock needed him. Urgently!

But of course this was not just about sharing some days of needy, greedy, messy sex. It meant that they would get bonded, and he, the despiser of sentiment and relationships and all that stuff, couldn’t wait to be committed to Alpha big brother.

*****

How could anyone be so stubborn?! Hadn’t he and Sherlock really made it clear that Mycroft was off limits for her long-red-fingernailed paws? Hadn’t her skirts only gotten shorter since she had spilled the news and made Sherlock's sexuality a subject for the yellow press? Oh, she had left Mycroft's full identity out of it, wisely… But Mycroft had not forgiven her, and if he’d had anything to say in this matter, she would have been removed from her position as the head of MI6. He assumed that Sherlock would have preferred removing her _head,_ but thank God, he had been able to placate and distract baby bro with some passionate snogging.

But here she was again, unwilling to leave after the matters at hand had already been discussed at length, her look as melting as Jesse’s when he longed for a treat. And so did she…

He shuddered. “Well, since we’re finished… I need to read -…”

“Ah, shut up!” she suddenly flared, grabbing his shoulders to his terror. “Let a real woman show you what you’re missing out fucking this brat of a-…”

“...Omega younger brother?” the man in question finished her sentence, storming into the room like a hurricane. “Get out. Now. And keep your nasty fingers off my Alpha or I’ll bite them off and use them to fuck your old cunt.” He slipped off his coat and let it carelessly fall to the floor.

Mycroft gasped at the language and the threat and the entire awful situation but then a peculiar smell hit him – little brother was in heat! His cock swelled in his pants on cue. “You heard him,” he rasped out. “Leave us alone.”

She gave him a look full of disgust, and then her eyes were drawn to his tenting trousers. “Oh God. You’re an animal!”

“He is.” Sherlock all but pushed her aside. “Shut the door when you leave, would you? We don’t need an audience.”

Mycroft fleetingly wondered whether Anthea wouldn’t be a very grateful audience indeed before he grabbed Sherlock, crashing their mouths together, and the door was slammed shut a moment later.

They didn't even talk but fumbled with each other’s flies and trouser buttons, not bothering with their shirts or Mycroft's tie. He did get rid of his jacket so he would be able to move easier.

And then Sherlock was sitting on the edge of his desk, his cock red and hard and leaking clear fluid, his cloaca opened wide, positively dripping thick slick on the folder with the content Mycroft had just discussed with the lady, and he couldn’t have cared less.

His cock was impossibly hard, his knot already swelling, and Sherlock's moan when he probed at his opening with two fingers made him almost lose it already.

“Get in, Alpha,” Sherlock growled, sensing how close Mycroft was to spill all over him before even slipping into him. He curled his legs around Mycroft's waist to urge him forward, and then Mycroft was sinking into the strongly- and very sweet smelling stickiness of Sherlock's quivering opening, and feeling little to no resistance as well as Sherlock's teeth at the scent gland beneath his ear, he slid home without any hesitancy and started screwing him so hard that the desk was thundering on the floor at every powerful stroke.

“Bite me,” whined Sherlock next to his ear, but Mycroft shook his head.

“Not now. Not like that. Give me two hours to finish everything here so I can take the next few days off and we’ll do it on our bed later today, okay?” He craved it as much as Sherlock, perhaps even more – being bonded, being linked to each other forever beyond their brotherly relationship and what they’d had so far – but not on his desk, in his office, with Anthea on the other side of the wall. And of course he didn’t have the rings here. They were in his bed stand drawer and he wanted them to exchange them right after it had happened.

“Just don’t want to miss it again,” mumbled Sherlock, and Mycroft, still hammering into him relentlessly, patted his back.

“Your heat won’t be over so soon.” And it wouldn’t end after the bond bite but only change into something less frantic but hitting on a deeper level in terms of emotion. He had read about it and he couldn’t wait to experience it with Sherlock. He licked at the scent gland on Sherlock's neck, savouring his Omega's unique taste. God, he really couldn’t wait to bite into it.

“Oh, I’m coming,” stuttered Sherlock, and Mycroft's knot reached its full size, linking them together, shooting his load into Sherlock while the detective was spurting over his own stomach and basically all over the place.

There would be a hell of a mess to be cleaned up but Mycroft didn't care. He pressed his shivering Omega close to his body. “I love you, little brother.”

“Love you, too,” panted Sherlock, sounding relieved.

The heat was not over which meant neither of them would be going anywhere for quite some time as Mycroft's knot was firmly in place, but that had ceased to be a burden. He would cherish those minutes – and hope that the PM wouldn’t make an appearance.

“What’s so funny?” Sherlock asked him, raising his head to look at him.

Mycroft kissed him and stroked his slightly sweaty curls. “Nothing, love. You’re alright?” The room was filled with the smell of sex and arse and slick and sperm. It was not unpleasant – quite the opposite, actually. It would be quite hard to get his work done without getting distracted though but he would manage.

“Yeah. Will it really happen tonight?” Sherlock sounded a bit worried.

For no reason whatsoever, naturally. “I swear. And I won’t go to the office until the heat is over.” A conference call was the most they could expect from him. Reading reports in between bouts of lovemaking was fine, too. But he wouldn’t leave Sherlock’s side to come here. He wouldn’t want to.

“I’ve messed up your desk quite spectacularly.” Sherlock's tone was something between sheepishness and glee.

“Ah, no problem. I’ll take care of that as soon as I can move again.” And he would remind himself to store some wet wipes in his desk for the next time that would most certainly come – quite literally...

“Good. Jesse’s waiting with Anthea.”

“Oh.” Mycroft wondered what his PA had heard from their encounter. But he didn't really mind. “So… How was your day so far?”

*****

Sherlock had powered himself out – or he had tried. First, he had jogged in the park a few hundred metres away from Mycroft's house, Jesse running next to him, panting happily – his leg was fine now. Then he had played ball with the never-tiring dog. When they had returned to the house, he had given him a bowl with fresh water and downed a full bottle himself. And then he had stepped onto Mycroft's treadmill, doing some more exercise. Or rather searched distraction from the need that was building up in him again, a need that couldn’t be fulfilled by running like a fool.

God… He craved for Mycroft's knot. He saw himself in his mind’s eye, spreading his cheeks wantonly for big brother. And cursed himself for getting off on an image of himself. But he was close to using one of his special toys to silence this… itching… He needed to be scratched inside by that lovely Alpha cock. If Mycroft didn’t come home soon, he would have to take care of it himself, and he really didn't want that. He wanted that hot and twitching and throbbing part of Mycroft in his hole, wanted to meet his strokes, violently impaling himself on him to get him into his dripping hole _and he needed him so badly and his thoughts were circling and he was suffering, God, he needed him and his clothes melted from his body and Jesse was sniffing at him and ‘go away, your cock is too small,’ blubbered out of his mouth, and hysterical laughter shook him and he crawled around on the bed, almost dropping from it. It was so much worse than the first attack and he was losing his mind and all self-control and he would get crazy if he didn't get fucked right now!_

And then his brother was there, making soothing noises while he was hastily undressing, and Sherlock threw himself onto him as soon as he had sat down on the bed and then he was bouncing up and down on him, the giant cock sliding into him to the hilt _and it still wasn’t enough and he needed it harder and please, Mycroft!_

And his brother obeyed and grabbed him and put him onto his back and took him like a well-oiled machine, and Sherlock yowled and screamed and begged for more and he begged for Mycroft to bite him and then his brother’s sharp teeth scratched over his throbbing scent gland and then… he bit down hard and Sherlock saw stars and the world shifted on its axis and a rush of hormones made his teeth clatter and his whole body turn into a shivering, quivering mess. He came harder than ever before and Mycroft's seed was shot into him while Mycroft was still sucking at the bite mark and licking it and soothing it, and then it all turned dark when Sherlock finally passed out.

*****

With relief, Mycroft saw his brother open his eyes and wrinkle his nose at the scent of freshly brewed tea. They really did that – Omegas. They passed out when they received the bond bite. He looked at his very own Omega in awe, offering him the mug. “Drink, brother mine. How are you feeling?” Sherlock had been off for about ten minutes. Enough time – after checking his pulse – to clean them both up as much as possible and make some strong tea.

Sherlock took the mug with a grateful look. “Weird. As if I had left my own body and now it feels all… new and strange. But… in a very good way. And you?” He sipped at the tea, looking at Mycroft inquiringly.

Mycroft couldn’t have described how he was feeling for the life of him. ‘New and strange’ was quite a good summary for him as well though. His heart had… overflown, as sentimental as it sounded. Overflown with deep love for the man he was now bonded with, deep love and the wish to protect him from all the harms in the world. It was the epitome of sappiness and there was not an ounce of regret in him about that. “I… I feel great. Like I never want to let go of you again.”

Sherlock gave him a smile that reached the deepest corners of his soul – a concept that he would have denied before falling for little brother. “Same for me. I will still need it again soon. To… finally seal it? Does that make sense?”

“Oh yes. It will be different. With the knowledge that we’re… more than before now.” Bonded on so many levels. As brothers, still, nothing would erase that. As lovers. Partners. Forever. _Wow…_

Sherlock grinned. “Yeah. It’s quite a thing, huh?”

“I agree. Oh.” Mycroft reached for the small jewel case he had gotten out of the drawer after returning with the tea.

“Oh,” breathed Sherlock, sitting up.

He had not seen the rings. They had chosen them together online and Mycroft had taken care of the engraving – saying _‘_ _Holmes_ _🤍_ _S & M_ _🤍_ _Forever’_ – simple and sappy but not over the top as they had agreed. Sherlock had made some jokes about the ‘S & M’ part though but Mycroft had insisted on this order.

The ring themselves were plain bands made of platinum. Mycroft took the ring Uncle Rudy had given him two decades ago from his finger. “Ready?”

Sherlock, looking tousled, his cheeks still flushed, nodded. “Yes. You may start.”

“Thank you.” Mycroft grinned but then he got Sherlock's ring – which was half a size bigger than his own – and his voice was serious when he spoke. He might still be stark naked and so was Sherlock but he felt the gravity of this moment, which was the most important one of their lives. Well, probably that had been the bonding already but he still felt some gravity to this situation he would never be in again.

He gave Sherlock an encouraging look and his brother offered him his left hand. The ring slid onto his ring finger perfectly smoothly. A feeling of sheer pride that his beautiful baby brother would now always wear the ring that spoke of their unity made Mycroft's throat tight for a moment before he pulled himself together. “My dear, dear Omega. I can’t even say how much this moment means to me. Being with you. Being bonded with you.” He stopped for a moment, involuntarily looking for a sign of contempt in Sherlock's eyes at his tone and choice of words, but all he could see was affection and adoration. “This all happened in the most unexpected way,” – that did make Sherlock grin and he returned it wholeheartedly –,“but it was the best development for my life, for our lives, that I could have imagined. I promise to protect you and support you in every way I can and I will always be there for you. I love you with all my heart.”

“Damn, Mycroft – do you _want_ to see me cry?” sniffed Sherlock, and really, his eyes did look suspiciously wet.

As far as Mycroft could see that with the tears that made his sight all blurry…

Sherlock fumbled Mycroft's ring out of the box and a moment later, Mycroft was able to admire it on his finger. It looked as if it absolutely belonged there.

“I… I don’t know if this outcome was what I had in mind when I got here, pushed over your threshold by my dear flatmate.” Sherlock smiled. “I was so horny and I craved you. But now… I crave you with more than my arse. I want to be with you, as often as our stupid jobs allow it. I can’t wait to move in with you. I want to talk to you and hold your hand and do all the sappy things couples do for the rest of my life. And of course I promise to always obey you, my stern, sexy Alpha.”

Mycroft burst out laughing, and Sherlock fell in at once. “I totally believe you,” Mycroft chuckled when he could speak again.

Sherlock winked at him but then he grew serious. “I also want to be there for you, always, and I swear, if someone attacks you in any way, or tries to lay a finger on you in any suspicious way, I will make no prisoners.”

“So possessive,” smirked Mycroft, feeling ridiculously happy. “The same goes for you of course.”

“I love you, big brother. You are the best catch I could have gotten, and I won’t ever let you get away.”

“Well, thank God I’ll never want that.” And with this, Mycroft pulled his wondrous little brother, his Omega, into his arms and they kissed for the first time as bonded partners, and holding him and having his tongue dance with his own just felt so right, and Mycroft knew they both had found their destiny in each other, and it was exactly like it should be.

The End


End file.
